My Dryer Is A Portal to Other Worlds? Volume II
by DrJolly
Summary: Yes, it happens again...but this time, Monica takes a few extra in tow! Sequel to Volume I of the same name, of course. :P Disclaimer: No, I don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. If I did, I would probably be on a shopping spree right now. :P
1. Chapter 1

Monica tossed and turned in her sleep. She was dreaming about Jack again, about how he had saved her life so many times, and how she hadn't been there when he had needed her. Not that she would have been much help against a kraken, though.

Her eyes flew open as the image of Jack disappearing into the kraken filled her mind. She lay awake, panting, her eyes darting around, before she calmed down.

_It's just a dream,_ she thought, slowing her breathing. _Just a dream..._

She rolled over and glanced at her alarm clock. The glowing red numbers told her it was 11:13 PM.

She moaned and rolled over on her stomach, burying her face in her pillow. The second Pirates movie was haunting her, more than it should have, she knew--but she had a good reason for it, after all.

Monica felt sick as she remembered her adventures with Jack when she had somehow been transported back in time, into the Pirates of the Caribbean world. She sometimes wondered why her dryer had done it, and how, but mostly she dwelled on how much she missed the whole experience.

It was like homesickness, but different--she longed for adventure, and to be with Jack again--but she knew it wasn't right, that it was too strange to comprehend, that it would never happen again. And this thought in the back of her mind tortured her.

Ever since she had returned, she had been different. Her sisters had noticed. 21-year-old Alison and 18-year-old Michelle had been staying with their family over the summer, not wanting their mother and 15-year-old sister to be alone on the anniversary of their father's death.

Of course they had noticed the change in Monica. Normally, she was energetic and bouncy, almost to the point of annoyance. Her wisecracks and quips always made them laugh, but now, she was silent most of the time.

Michelle figured it was because of their father. She knew how close they had been, and that Monica would take a while to heal. But Alison thought it was something different. Usually Monica hid her worries with jokes, and know she wasn't even bothering to pretend to be happy. Something just wasn't right.

Alison and Michelle were, in fact, discussing this in the guest room, which had been Alison's bedroom before she had left for college. Michelle was laying on her stomach on the bed, hugging one of the pillows, and Alison was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

"I just don't understand it," Michelle said, tucking her fine light brown hair behind her ear. "Normally she's so..."

"Happy?" Alison suggested. She uncrossed her legs and stretched them in front of her, wiggling her toes. "Yeah, I know. Something's definitely up. The other day I could have sworn I heard her crying in the laundry room."

"So? She could just be sad about Dad," Michelle said. "Crying's not that big a deal."

"It's what she was crying _about_," Alison said earnestly. "I swear, I think she said something about dryers, and then she kept saying the name 'Jack'." She shook her head. "The dryer stuff I definitely don't get, but Jack could just be a guy at school."

"Should we ask her about it?" Michelle asked.

"I don't know...she'd probably just shut us out," Alison said thoughtfully. "It's not like she's very open with her feelings."

"Yeah." None of the Connors sisters were _that_ open with each other. Sure, they were close, but they never discussed their feelings or anything like that. Not even about their father.

"Still, it's worth a shot," Alison said, tossing her spun gold hair over her shoulder. "It can't hurt to try."

"Too bad she went to bed," Michelle said, sitting up. "What was it--like, 8:00?"

"Yeah." Neither one of the sisters, nor their mother, for that matter, could explain the sudden change in Monica's sleeping habits.

"She sleeps all the time," Michelle said, letting a grin slip across her face. "She's a frickin' sloth."

Alison chuckled. "Or a cat," she said, grinning.

"Henrietta!" Michelle mock called. Henrietta had been a cat of one of their great-aunts, and their father had always made them laugh about how creepy she had been.

The two girls laughed as they reminisced, happy to change the subject from their disturbed sister to something lighter.

Monica heard their laughter from her room down the hall. She wondered what they were talking about, but her mind slowly returned to laughing with Jack.

She groaned in frustration and sat up furiously. She was going crazy, she knew it. And she hated herself for it. If she had had that experience, and could never return to that world, why couldn't she just forget and be put out of her misery?

Monica sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed, stopping to rub her eyes. She forced herself not to think about the inn in Tortuga, but this only made her think about it.

She let out a quiet roar, not wanting anyone to hear her. For some reason, she didn't want to talk about what was troubling her. She hadn't told a soul about what had happened for fear of being sent to a mental hospital or something and being parted with her precious green dryer.

Monica stood up and took a step, and promptly tripped over her beanbag. This only made her more frustrated. She furiously seized the purple beanbag and hurled it across the room, where it hit her closet and fell to the floor.

She stood up, grumbling, and made her way across her messy room, somehow managing not to trip anymore. She finally picked up what she had wanted: her Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl DVD.

She looked at the cover numbly, feeling sorry for herself. She didn't even allow herself a sigh of despair before getting back in her bed and plugging in the movie.

The movie was her drug: she watched it to remind her of better times. She watched it entirely too much. She knew it was eating away at her life, but she couldn't stop.

She watched and felt sorry for herself, reminiscing about what had happened. And she hated herself for it. She just wanted to forget.

_What if all of it was just a dream?_ she thought, selecting Play. _Just a dream...?_

She pushed the thought out of her mind as the movie began.

The next day was laundry day. Monica stumped down the stairs, her basket on her hip. She didn't even try to hurry anymore, hoping she would get to do the laundry again and somehow be reunited with Jack, Gibbs, and the rest of the crew. And she knew how pathetic it was to associate Pirates with laundry.

Monica was, surprisingly, the first one down. She stopped in the kitchen, watching her mother sort the laundry in the laundry room.

Her mother turned around, wiping her hands off on her shorts. She looked surprised to see her youngest daughter there.

"What--you're first?" she asked in mock shock, smiling at Monica, determined to get a smile out of her.

She just nodded silently.

"Well, you don't have to do the laundry, then," her mother said, frowning slightly. "I don't know where your sisters are--"

She stopped as there was a thundering on the stairs.

"Oh!" she said, smiling. "There they are..."

Monica moved mutely out of the way as her two older sisters raced into the kitchen, headed for the laundry room. They stopped in surprise when they saw Monica before them.

"What the--" Alison said, panting. "Michelle, you're last!"

"Aww, come on!" Michelle said, grinning. "Oh, fine, I'll--"

"No, I'll do it," Monica said quickly.

The three women turned to stare at her. Monica shrugged sheepishly.

"It's just that...I'm used to it," she said lamely. "I don't mind. Really."

"Cool!" said Michelle, dropping her basket of dirty clothes and turning to the fridge for a bottle of water. A varsity track runner for UT, she seemed to have a bottomless pit of a stomach when it came to water.

Alison, on the other hand, was a swimmer, but her real passion was water polo. Although she hadn't gotten a scholarship for her sport, like Michelle had (Alison had gotten hers for her excellent grades in math and science), she was on the team.

And Monica...well, she wasn't exactly the athletic type. No, she wasn't fat or out of shape or anything--she ran cross-country and track at her high school--but it seemed that every sport she had tryed, she had been no good at. Softball, basketball, soccer, even flag football--you name it, she most likely stank at it. Monica blamed this on her "frequently changing interests"--she wasn't dedicated enough to a sport to want to try to get really good at it.

"I mean it, I'll do the laundry," Monica said quickly. "Just...just dump your stuff and I'll get on it."

She gave her family a weak smile. Her mother shook her head.

"Okay, it's your choice," she said, shaking her head. "I'm gonna go take a nap."

"Mom, it's 1:00 in the afternoon," Alison said, rolling her eyes.

"I know," her mother said, "But I'm still tired."

She left for her room without another room. Michelle watched her sullenly as she went.

"She's depressed about Dad," she said quietly as her mother shut the door to her room. "Tomorrow's the day..."

She trailed off into silence. The sisters stood awkwardly for a second, but soon Monica kicked the baskets into the laundry room and began to sort the clothes.

To her surprise, her sisters followed. She continued warily, knowing a Talk was coming.

Alison leaned against the doorframe of the room, crossing her arms. Michelle moved to the back corner, watching her younger sister sort the clothes.

Monica continued in silence, sure that they would start whenever they were ready. Sure enough, they did.

"She's takin' her emo nap," Alison said. Her sisters weren't sure whether she meant it as a joke or not, and another awkward silence fell.

_And this is why we never talk,_ Monica thought, bent over the laundry baskets. _It's just weird..._

Michelle sighed and took matters into her own hands. "Monica, what's the matter?" she asked, not moving from her place in the corner of the room. "You haven't been the same since we've been home."

"No, that's not true," Monica said quietly. "Things weren't...different..until that day you went dress shopping..."

Alison and Michelle glanced at each other, alarmed, as their sister paused in her work and stared off into space. Monica was broken out of her reverie by Alison asking softly, "What things?"

Monica shook her head quickly and continued sorting. "Nothing...you wouldn't understand," she said seriously.

Alison scoffed. "Try me. I was your own age once, too, you know. I went through the same shit you're going through."

Monica chuckled. "I highly doubt that," she said, smiling wryly to the basket of whites.

"Come on," Alison said. "Spill it."

"Leave her alone, Alison," Michelle said. "She'll talk if she wants to."

"Oh, don't pretend you're on my side," Monica snapped. Michelle looked taken aback.

Monica sighed. "God, I'm sorry," she said miserably, rubbing her eyes. "I've just been really irritable lately, I didn't mean to snap...I'm sorry," she said sincerely, looking up at her sister.

"Uh...that's okay," Michelle said, giving Alison a confused glance. It sure as hell wasn't normal for Monica to apologize so quickly for being rude. Alison just shrugged back at her dubiously.

"Alright, I'll tell you," Monica said hollowly. "But you're not gonna believe me."

Michelle and Alison exchanged another glance and waited for her to speak.

Monica took her time, contemplating how to tell her story. She opened up the washer and began to speak.

"Well, it all started that day you went shopping for the wedding--" she stopped, peering into the washer. "Damn, it's full already," she muttered. "Mom must've started this before we got down here..."

Monica felt excitement build up in her as she realized that she would get to use the dryer. She immediately heaved the sopping clothes from the washer and dropped them into an empty basket. Then, she moved to the dryer and opened it. As always, she opened it hopefully, but found nothing out of the ordinary there. Her shoulders slumped as she loaded the wet clothes into the dryer and nothing happened.

Alison cleared her throat loudly, making Monica jump and drop some clothes on the floor. Monica had almost forgotten that her two sisters were in the room with her.

"You were saying?" Alison asked. Michelle stayed silent, watching her younger sister intently.

Monica sighed, shut the door to the dryer, stood up, and turned it on. She stared at it morosely for a second before turning back to her sisters.

"Okay, so you guys were gone, and I started the wash load--"

"Oops, you dropped a sock," Michelle said, pointing at a stray one in front of the dryer.

Monica bent to pick it up slowly, remembering the last time...

_No,_ she thought sullenly, _it's not going to work again...I probably just imagined the whole thing, anyway...so why am I even telling the story!_

Scowling, she bent to open the dryer door and tossed it in. And then she froze.

"What is it?" Michelle asked, frowning.

Monica didn't move. She was a little preoccupied with the light that seemed to be coming from the back of the dryer.

"What's that weird glow?" Alison asked, leaving her post by the doorframe and moving closer to the dryer. Michelle moved cautiously forward, too.

The three sisters stared at the light as a faint whooshing came to their ears.

"Uh, guys, there's probably something you should know--" Monica began.

But she was cut off by the three of them getting pulled through the dryer.

Michelle screamed, Alison yelled, and Monica whooped in elation. She was finally going back! She couldn't believe it!

The Connors sisters flew for a while, but not enough for Michelle and Alison to stop their respective screaming and yelling. Monica began to laugh.

Finally, they hit a hard surface. Monica, with her smidgen of experience she had over her sisters, managed to land on her feet, but she fell over when Alison bowled into her. Michelle landed painfully on her back a foot away.

Alison sat, panting, looking alarmed. Michelle groaned and sat up, then froze as she took in her surroundings. Monica stood up slowly, staring around her.

"What the fuck just happened?" Alison yelled.

"Oh, my God," Michelle whispered, breathing heavily. "Oh, my _God_..."

"Calm down, you two," Monica said, a smile spreading slowly across her face. "Yeah, this is what I needed to tell you." She turned to her two frightened sisters on the wooden floor. "Our dryer is a portal to other worlds," she said, grinning from ear to ear.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the shit are you talking about!" Alison exploded, wincing as she stood up.

"Exactly what I said," Monica said, her grin not leaving her face. "We've been transported to another world."

"_What_ world?" Alison asked, staring at her sister as if worried for her mental health.

"Pirates," Monica said simply.

Alison stared at her, then at Michelle, who was still sitting on the wooden floor, then back at Monica.

"What?" she asked incredulously.

Monica sighed impatiently and rolled her eyes. "It's not hard, people! Our dryer transported us to another world, back in time, I guess, only to the Pirates of the Caribbean world!"

She felt her face redden as she realized how stupid this sounded.

Michelle stood up, her hands on the small of her back. "Where are we?" she asked wearily, as if she thought this was all some kind of joke she was tired of.

"I told you, we're in the Pirates world!" Monica yelled furiously, finally getting frustrated with her sisters. "Really, it's not that hard to understand! It didn't take me this long to understand when I was here before!"

"Before?" her sisters asked in unison.

"Yes, I met Jack and everything--Jack," Monica said, whispering his name. Was it possible--would she get to see him again?

Without another word, she started examining her surroundings, trying to figure out where they had landed. Was there a chance Jack would be near, or even anyone she was familiar with?

_I'd be happy to see anyone,_ she thought, glancing about the room. _Well, except for Decklan..._

Monica saw all sorts of clutter in the room by the dull yellow light coming from many lanterns. It was warm and kind of stuffy, and she couldn't make out some of the items. She did, however, see a sort of a couch and many different contraptions, like creepy-looking things hanging from the ceiling...

"Tia Dalma's," she breathed, turning slowly on the spot. "We're in Tia Dalma's shack..."

Alison and Michelle stared, dumbfounded, as their younger sister ran to the couch.

"This must be where Barbossa...but, when are we?" Monica said to herself, leaving her sisters to wonder cluelessly.

"Then maybe--!" Monica straightened suddenly, whirled around, and ran for a staircase she had just noticed.

"Wait!" Michelle said urgently, but Monica's form had already disappeared down the dark staircase. Without thinking, she and Alison ran after her.

THUMP THUMP THUMP--THUD!

Alison and Michelle froze as they heard Monica groan. Glancing at each other with alarm, they ran down the stairs to see Monica laying on her stomach on the floor at the foot of the stairs, her head up quizzically.

_Well, at least that means she's okay,_ Michelle thought worriedly, hurrying down the stairs. _But is she alright...in the head? Then again, am I?_

The two elder Connors sisters rushed to Monica's sides, helping her up. When all three of them were standing steadily, Alison noticed she was looking up at something.

"Monica, are you--what?"

Alison and Michelle raised their heads at the same time to see Barbossa, Tia Dalma, Will, Elizabeth, Mr. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel, and Ragetti staring at them.

Michelle crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

Alison's jaw dropped and her grip tightened on Monica's arm, sure that she was about to faint, too, but she only swayed a bit.

Monica was dismayed. "I missed Jack, didn't I?" she asked quietly.

Then she realized how strange this must be for the characters of the movie. She cleared her throat and moved forward, gently removing her arm from Alison's grip.

"Uh...well, this is hard to explain..." Then she remembered something. "Gibbs! You remember me, right?" she asked hopefully.

Gibbs blinked a couple of times, then nodded. Monica let out a sigh of relief.

"Good, that might make things a bit easier...now, will someone help me get her up somewhere?" Monica said shyly, nodding towards Michelle, unconscious on Tia Dalma's floor. "It just seems...a little unceremonious, you know?"

_Like us falling into a movie isn't unceremonious,_ Alison thought numbly, her mind emerging from a blank state into one of panic.

Gibbs spoke first. "Who're they?" he asked gruffly.

"My sisters," Monica told him, managing to sound a bit calmer. "They came too, by accident, I guess...now will you please help her? Where can we put her?" she asked, swallowing and turning to Tia Dalma. "I'll explain this, I swear," she said desperately. "I know this is bizarre..."

Gibbs moved forward first. Monica gave him a grateful look as he passed and bent down to Michelle.

"That's Michelle," Monica said brightly, trying to break the ice that had suddenly developed in the room. "She's eighteen. And this is Alison; she's twenty-one."

Alison swallowed and smiled grimly, trying hard not to vomit.

"Yeah..." Monica nodded and clapped her hands softly, as if waiting for something. "Uh...anyone wanna volunteer to bring Sleeping Beauty here to a bed or something?" she joked feebly. Then she realized that probably no one would get the reference. "Whatever. Just...come on!"

Her pleading eyes searched the room. Sure, she had passed out when she had arrived last time, but had the crew of the Black Pearl acted this way?

_Well, they just got a shock from Barbossa,_ she thought sensibly. _I'm surprised one of them didn't have a heart attack..._

Suddenly Will stepped forward. Alison felt her heart skip a beat.

_Is this really happening?_ she wondered as he made his way across the room. _Either this is a dream, or I'm going crazy!_

Gibbs and Will picked up Michelle's unconscious form uncertainly, much to the relief of Monica, who was becoming more nervous by the second under the stare of these...characters. Stars.

People.

She shook herself slightly and once again turned to Tia Dalma. "Where to?" she asked, smiling weakly.

Tia Dalma pointed wordlessly up the stairs they had just come down. Monica nodded as she realized Michelle was to be put on the couch she had seen upstairs.

Gibbs and Will led the way, Will holding Michelle under the arms, and Gibbs supporting her legs. Monica was about to follow, but decided to stay behind instead.

"Alright, I know we've got a lot of explaining to do," she said after taking a deep breath. "So get comfortable, this is a long story...but Gibbs might be able to help me along the way; he's met me before..."

Monica stopped her babbling as Will and Gibbs descended the stairs, skirting Alison and Monica warily. They moved to the back of the room. Monica noticed how Will stayed far away from Elizabeth.

"Um, where to start...okay. We're from the future. That's why our clothes look funny. And why we talk funny, too--where we come from hasn't even been established yet, I think," she said, straining to remember her Texas history. "Anyway, we got here through a dryer--it's a machine that dries your clothes--and we ended up here. Yes, this has happened to me before, but only to me--my sisters weren't there. I landed on the Black Pearl. It was right after the first movie--I mean, when Jack escaped Port Royal when he was about to be hanged...and when you kissed Will for the first time," she added, looking at Elizabeth. She wasn't sure if anyone noticed the guilty look on her face.

"Anyway...well, basically, word somehow got out that I was Jack's daughter, and that got me into a huge mess--well, you don't really need to know what happened, but you do need to know that I know most of what's been going on in your lives for the past week or so. I saw most of what happened from when you fell off the battlements that day your corset was too tight--" she said, looking pointedly at Elizabeth, "--to when your wedding was ruined by that asshole Beckett, to right now, when Barbossa came down the stairs."

Monica paused, took a deep breath, and continued explaining. "I know you escaped from jail with the dog's help," she said, looking at Pintel and Ragetti, "and I know you've been on the Pearl," she continued, looking at Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty, "and I know Beckett wanted you to get Jack's compass to save Elizabeth's life," she finished, looking at Will. "Oh, and I know you escaped from Port Royal, pretended to be a man to get on a ship, led the crew to Tortuga, found Norrington and Jack, and--battled the kraken," she finished lamely, looking at Elizabeth. She didn't want to reveal the kiss between her and Jack. She was sure they all had enough on their minds.

"Oh, and I know _you_ brought _him_ back to life somehow," Monica added quickly, pointing at Tia Dalma and Barbossa. "And...and that's about it," she said stupidly. She took a deep breath and swallowed hard. "So...any questions?" she asked, smiling weakly.

Alison and Monica watched as they all shifted uncomfortably in their spots, but said nothing.

"Good!" Monica said, putting her hands on her hips. "Then we can get right to saving Jack!"

Alison stared at her, dumbfounded. "What?" she asked incredulously. "We have to get home! How do we get out of here?" she asked, sounding slightly panicked.

"We leave after thirty days," Monica said calmly, raising a hand at her sister's shocked look. "Don't worry--only thirty minutes will pass in our world. "Trust me," she added, smiling a little. "I've been through this before. Isn't that right, Mr. Gibbs?"

Gibbs nodded. Monica could have sworn she saw the tiniest hint of a smile on his face, as if he was remembering how bizarre it had been then and coming to the realization that it was happening again.

"Okay, now that that's settled," Monica said briskly, rubbing her hands together. "What about Jack?"

"What about Michelle?" Alison asked immediately.

Monica waved this thought away with a hand. "She'll be fine. I fainted, too--she'll be up in no time." She took a step forward, so that she was standing next to Barbossa. Which was pretty creepy, she had to admit. "What's the plan?" she asked earnestly, thinking she would scream if she was sidetracked from this question again.

Without warning, Barbossa spoke, making Monica jump a little. "We sail to the end of the earth to find him," he said in a low voice. Monica noticed he still had his apple in his hand.

"And when we do?" she asked, trying to hide her excitement.

_I'm standing here, having a civilized conversation with Barbossa,_ she thought wonderingly. _BARBOSSA!_

"Well, that's a matter of what state we find him in, young missy," he replied. "Which reminds me...you never did say what your name was."

Monica lifted her head slightly. "Monica Connors," she said proudly, half a grin sliding to her lips. "Known to some as Monica Sparrow!"

When Michelle woke up, it took her a moment to remember where she was. Which was understandable, of course: she had only seen this place for about a minute. When she remembered, she felt a sick feeling in her stomach.

_It wasn't a dream,_ she thought numbly. _We really are...here...wherever "here" is, technically..._

She sat up, groaning a little at the pain in her back. She remembered falling on it painfully when the sisters had arrived at the shack. She winced and put a hand on the small of her back, knowing she would be sore for a few days.

Suddenly, there was a thundering on the stairs. The noise scared Michelle more than anxiety about what might come up--she had just been through a major shock.

_Well, duh_ she thought grimly, watching the stairs expectantly. _Or I'm just going crazy!_

Monica ran into the room, closely followed by Alison. Monica looked elated, while Alison looked freakishly pale.

Michelle felt her stomach drop to her feet (yes, even though she was sitting) when her two sisters were followed by Will Turner.

Will was her favorite character. Much of that was influenced by the fact that he was played by the lovely, dreamy Orlando Bloom, but nevertheless, she was floored to see him.

She tore her eyes from his face to look at her sisters--one, nearly bouncing off the walls with excitement and anticipation; the other, looking as if she was going to throw up.

"You're awake!" Monica said excitedly, ignoring the obviousness of this statement. And the thoughts of whether "obviousness" was a word. "You missed it!"

"Missed what?" Michelle asked, taken aback by Monica's energy. She hadn't seen her this excited about anything since...since she had gone with her friends to see Dead Man's Chest...and before that...well, it had been a long time, anyway.

"The plan!" Monica answered earnestly. 

"Plan?"

"Yes--to save Jack!"

"What..." The end of Dead Man's Chest came back to Michelle slowly.

"Wow, you're really out of it," Monica remarked. "Well, that was a big shock..." She turned to Will, grinning. "You should have seen her when Barbossa came down those stairs! She threw her juice box down on the ground, she got so angry, it was hilarious!"

Michelle felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, but then she felt a bit more relieved when she realized that Will probably had no idea what Monica was talking about. Well, about juice boxes, at least.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," Monica said. "They're probably waiting...Tia Dalma said she wanted to talk to all of us, together. So hurry up!" she added, grinning.

Michelle and Alison glanced at each other. There was a gleam in Monica's eye that they hadn't seen in ages...had it been there since their father had died?

Michelle sighed and got up, wincing and returning a hand to her back. "Alright, alright, I'm coming," she said. She smiled weakly at Will, who was standing silently back. "Hi," she said shyly. "I'm--"

"Michelle, I know," he said quickly. "And I'm--"

"Will, I know," she said, smiling. She took a step and cringed at the pain in her lower back.

"Are you alright?" Will asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"Oh, it's nothing, it's just when we got here, we sort of--"

"Fell from the sky," Monica interjected, grinning.

Michelle had almost forgotten her sisters were there. Her blush returned as she made her way to the stairs, looking up at Will shyly. As she took the first step, she stumbled a little, and Will placed a hand on her back to steady her.

Monica could practically see her face and ears glowing red from back in the room. She smirked at Alison, but it appeared her older sister hadn't noticed anything. She was still pale, but she stepped forward after Michelle and Will without a word. Monica followed, feeling excited.

When they all had entered the main room of the shack, they saw the owner seated at her table. The others stood, crowded around it. They seemed too wary of Tia Dalma to sit near her.

Monica made her way gently past Michelle and Will to sit at the table. She pulled up a chair and sat, gazing at the voodoo witch, suddenly serious--but the light never left her eyes.

Tia Dalma surveyed the room before speaking. When she did, her eyes darted around the room, pausing over every member of this eccentric party.

"You want to save Jack Sparrow, do you not?" she asked the room as a whole now.

"Captain," Monica said immediately. "Captain...Jack Sparrow," she said sheepishly under Tia Dalma's intense stare.

The rest of the group nodded, and Monica joined in quickly.

"And you want to save your father?" Tia Dalma asked Will.

Will looked surprised, but nodded.

"And you want to save _your_ father?" Tia Dalma asked again, this time looking at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth looked extremely taken aback, but she nodded too.

"Well, that's funny," Monica piped up, grinning. "I want to save my 'father', too! Heh, heh...heh..."

She shut up as she felt everyone's eyes on her. She was sure she saw Barbossa roll his eyes, and she felt her face redden.

"Yeah, just a joke...uh, continue," she said, gesturing towards Tia Dalma apologetically.

Tia Dalma nodded, looking slightly amused, and continued.

"None of you managed to get the 'eart of Davy Jones?" she asked, casting a somewhat amused glance around the room.

Monica smirked as the characters of the movie--minus Barbossa--shuffled uncomfortably.

"'oo 'as it?" Tia Dalma asked, but Monica was sure she already knew the answer.

No one spoke. Then, Monica realized that none of them were really sure who had it--except for the three of them who had seen where it had gone.

"Norrington," she said quickly. "He brought it to Beckett."

Will gripped the back of the chair he was standing behind forcefully. Elizabeth's eyes flickered to Monica's, but then back down at her feet.

"The 'eart is needed to call off the kraken, and to bargain with Davy Jones," Tia Dalma said, leaning back in her chair. "But as the kraken 'as already found Jack--"

"We don't need it to rescue him," Gibbs said.

Tia Dalma nodded. "That leaves it to be used by Will Turner...to fulfill 'is destiny," she said eerily. She smiled at Will, revealing her blackened teeth.

Will nodded, but said nothing. Then Elizabeth said, "But what about _my_ father?"

Tia Dalma's gaze shifted to her. "You will find 'im on your own," she said sharply. "You know where 'e is?"

Elizabeth nodded. "Port Royal."

"Den you will go and find him," Tia Dalma said calmly. "Will you need 'elp?"

Elizabeth blinked, then nodded, looking at Will, who looked away.

"And you will need 'elp on de search for your fahder?" Tia Dalma asked Will, a small smile playing across her cracked black lips.

"Yes," Will said, refusing to meet Elizabeth's eye.

"Captain!" Tia Dalma said, now turning her stare upon Barbossa. "'ow many will you need on your journey?"

"It will depend on the size of ship we use," Barbossa said.

"Wait, you're going for Jack?" Monica asked quickly.

Barbossa nodded.

"Count me in," she said immediately.

"Monica--" Alison began.

"Oh, you want to come to?" Monica asked innocently.

"No, I think we should--"

"Well, if you don't want to come, you can always go with Will or Elizabeth," Monica continued, pretending she hadn't heard her sister.

"Dat's a good idea," Tia Dalma said suddenly, smiling at Monica. "You will go wid 'im--" she pointed at Michelle, then at Will-- "--and you will go wid 'er," she finished, pointing at Alison and Elizabeth.

"What--I don't--" Elizabeth began, giving Alison a wary look.

"She will go wid you," Tia Dalma said in a finalizing tone. "You will need 'er 'elp...and per'aps you, too, will meet your destiny...Alison Marie."

Alison stared at the voodoo lady, wondering how she knew her middle name. But now, nothing really suprised her. She nodded and glanced at Elizabeth.

"Looks like you're stuck with me," she joked, smiling weakly. Elizabeth returned the smile, but only halfheartedly.

"You will go wid dem," Tia Dalma continued, staring intently at Will, "with...Michelle Anne."

Michelle swallowed hard, not sure if she was more nervous about a movie character suddenly knowing her middle name or going on an adventure with Orlando Bloom--no, Will Turner.

"And you..." Tia Dalma fixed her eyes on Monica, who was sitting stock still in her seat, listening intently. "You will go wid the Captain and 'is crew."

"You mean Pintel and Ragetti?" Monica asked brightly.

Tia Dalma nodded.

"Excellent!" Monica exclaimed, grinning at the two pirates. They just stared back, looking bewildered.

"Dat leaves you tree," the witch continued, pointing at Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty. "You will sail wid Mr. Turner and Miss Connors as dey look for 'is fahder."

Gibbs nodded, wide-eyed, as Tia Dalma gave him his orders.

"You must start immediately," Tia Dalma said, suddenly businesslike. "I 'ave a boat--you can use it to get out of de swamp, then find ships to make your journeys wid. You can stay da night, review your plans, if you wish, but leave in da mornin'."


	3. Chapter 3

There was silence as Tia Dalma finished speaking. Monica looked around cautiously at the pale faces of the others in the room.

"Well!" she said abruptly, pushing her chair back from the table and standing up. "Looks like that's settled. Though I don't know why everyone looks so glum...this is gonna be great!"

She glanced at everyone at the room, suddenly self-conscious.

"Uh..." she said sheepishly, smiling shyly. "Just tryin' to lighten the mood..."

Everyone stared at her.

"Yeah," Monica muttered. "Um, do you have somewhere we can all sleep?" she asked Tia Dalma politely. "Oh, and...maybe some clothes for us?" she added, gesturing to herself and her sisters.

Tia Dalma stared at the teenaged girl, amused, and finally nodded. She rose from her chair and went into a back room whose doorway was draped with beads.

_That's where Barbossa was,_ Monica thought quickly as she watched the witch rummage through the room through the beads. _Not where we were. Hell, we could have been in her own bedroom or something..._

She shook herself slightly and returned to reality. She turned to face the room, taking in all that she saw.

Will and Elizabeth stood on separate sides of the room. Will was still gripping the back of the chair, but he was staring at the ground. Elizabeth kept casting him hopeful looks, but when they weren't returned, she averted her tear-filled eyes. Gibbs stood next to her, looking grim but accepting what Tia Dalma had said. Cotton and Marty were next to him, both looking slightly worried. Next to them stood Alison, whose face was still deathly pale. She was staring at nothing in particular, but she seemed to be swaying a bit.

On the other side of the room, next to Will, stood Michelle. She, too, was staring into space, but she looked slightly more determined than Alison. She wasn't as pale, but she had a hand on the small of her back. Monica figured it was still sore from the painful fall she had taken.

Next to Michelle was Ragetti, and next to him Pintel. Monica mused at the irony of this, remembering Michelle's fondness of calling the former of the two "Spaghetti Ragetti."

And next to Pintel stood Barbossa. His eyes were sweeping the room, as Monica's were, but his were lingering on the faces of the people there, studying their faces. He seemed used to his environment, making Monica figure he had been up and about in Tia Dalma's shack before.

Monica shivered. Barbossa had never failed to creep her out. And now she was going on a sea voyage with him and his cronies to save Captain Jack Sparrow...this was just too strange.

But she was used to strange. She had been through this before, hadn't she?

As she pondered this, Monica's gaze fell once again on Pintel and Ragetti, who looked nervous under the stare of their former captain.

_Oh, yeah,_ Monica thought wonderingly, studying the scene. _They've been loyal to Jack throughout all of _Dead Man's Chest_...well, sort of,_ she thought grimly. _Will they switch to Barbossa's side, or will they stay with Jack?_

Monica was interrupted from her thoughts by Tia Dalma returning from the back room with a pile of clothes. Monica took them gratefully, smiling in thanks.

"Thank you...um, so where can we change...and sleep?" she said shyly.

"You can sleep in the room you came down from," Tia Dalma replied calmly. "But two of you will 'ave to sleep on da floor."

"Alright. Thanks," Monica said lamely, unsure of what to say. She turned, glanced at her sisters, and jerked her head towards the stairs.

Alison and Michelle moved from their places to join their younger sister. Monica led the way up the dark staircase, followed by Michelle and Alison, who came close behind.

They found themselves in the small room again. There was only one bed.

"Dibs!" Monica yelled, jumping on the bed, tossing the clothes aside.

Alison and Michelle said nothing, but exchanged glances. They watched Monica paw through the pile of clothes. Finally, she separated three shirts and three pairs of pants.

"I pick..." she muttered, frowning. Then, a smile spread across her face as she chose a cream-colored shirt and a pair of black pants.

Grinning, she stood up, only to meet her less-than-thrilled sisters.

"Well? Get dressed!" she said, as if there were no question about dressing into clothes from the 18th century to go on a pirating adventure.

"Monica..." Alison said softly, but then trailed off. She wasn't sure how to word her thoughts.

"What are we doing here?" Michelle whispered.

Monica looked crestfallen. "Aren't...aren't you excited?" she asked doubtfully.

Alison and Michelle looked each other yet again uneasily.

"Well, frankly, I'm not," Alison finally said bluntly.

Monica looked highly offended. "Why not?"

"Why not? Because we just got sucked into a movie--a movie set _back in time_, mind you--by our stupid old dryer!" Alison exploded. "And now we're expected to go off on some journey to rescue fictional characters? I have obviously gone CRAZY!"

"Keep your voice down!" Michelle hissed, her eyes darting to the door.

"Why? So the movie characters won't hear me!" Alison yelled furiously. "Don't tell me you believe this shit, too!"

Michelle hesitated, thinking. She didn't want to piss Alison off, but she didn't want to stay in denial, either.

Finally, she spoke. "I _do_ believe it," she said firmly. "What's happening is happening, and I don't think there's anything we can do to help it. So I think we should just go along with it and see where it takes us. Monica's been through this before, so I know we can get through it, too."

Monica stared at her, awed. "So you don't think this is crazy?" she asked, her mouth open.

"Well, I still think it's crazy, but what am I gonna do about it?" Michelle said softly. She moved to the bed and picked up a white shirt and black pants.

Alison watched her in disbelief. Michelle sat next to Monica on the bed, placing the clothes in her lap. The two younger Connors sisters looked up at the elder in unison, hope in one's eyes, determination in the other's.

Alison rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in the air. "I'm going crazy. That's all. I'm just going crazy..."

She moved to the bed and picked up the remaining clothes, brown pants and a white shirt.

Monica let out a cheer. "This is so exciting!" she squealed, letting the fangirl in her get the best of her.

Michelle and Alison couldn't help smiling. Michelle laughed, and Alison shook her head.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Will came in the door, looking apprehensive.

"Are you alright? We thought we heard some yelling," he said, looking at the three girls curiously.

"Yes, we're fine, thanks," Alison said politely, taking charge. Monica had nearly fallen off the bed in surprise, and Michelle had frozen in her place next to her.

"She says one of you can change downstairs in one of the rooms," Will said, nodding back down the stairs. Monica took him to mean Tia Dalma, but her mind was elsewhere...

"Michelle, why don't you go downstairs with Will?" she said suddenly, plastering a smile on her face.

"What?" Alison asked, frowning. What was she doing, volunteering her sister to go?

"What?" Michelle said nervously, turning to Monica, who was still grinning.

"Yes, just go ahead with Will," Monica said pointedly, "and Alison and I will change in here and the next room," she continued, looking pleased with herself.

"But--I can--" Michelle began.

"That's okay. Just go change, we'll be fine," Monica said, standing up and pulling Michelle with her. She pushed her sister towards Will, who was waiting in the doorway. Michelle blushed when she looked at him.

"Ta-ta!" Monica said, ushering them out the door and onto the staircase. She shut the door behind them and jumped up and down silently, looking ready to squeal again.

"What was that all about?" Alison asked, disgruntled by her sister's sudden elation.

"Oh, nothing, just hooking them up," Monica sang, moving to the floor where she had dropped her clothes.

"What the f--" Alison took a deep breath before managing to calm herself down. "What do you mean, 'hooking them up'? He's not real!"

Alison only grew more furious as Monica ignored her.

"Besides, doesn't he have Elizabeth?" Alison asked, smirking.

Monica froze. True, Will probably wasn't feeling too chummy towards Elizabeth at the moment, but she definitely thought they should end up together--she hated Sparrabeth shippers with a passion.

"I didn't think of that," she muttered, not looking at Alison. "And we're leaving in thirty days...okay, so I didn't think it through. I'm sorry. But what damage is him taking her downstairs gonna do, anyway?"

When Monica shut the door behind them, Will and Michelle descended the dark staircase.

Will spoke first. "So, how's your back?" he asked tentatively over his shoulder--the stairs weren't wide enough to fit two people walking abreast.

"Oh, it's...fine, I guess...to tell the truth, I haven't really thought about it, my mind's been on...other things..."

Will smiled. "I know what you mean. This whole meeting has been so distracting, I almost forgot you weren't...from here."

He stopped at the bottom of the steps, unsure if he had offended her or not. But when she came out of the stairway, she was smiling.

"I'm not _that_ strange," she joked. "Just because I'm from the future and I know most of your life story doesn't mean I'm a freak or anything."

Will gave a little laugh as he led Michelle to a door.

"Well, this is it," he said rather lamely. 

"Exciting," Michelle said, smiling up at him. His eyes locked on hers for a moment, but then looked away nervously.

"Well, I'll go get changed, then," Michelle said, sensing his discomfort. The two exchanged one last smile and fleeting glance before she entered the room.

It was basically like the rest of Tia Dalma's shack, with the strange objects hanging from the ceiling and the miscellaneous items strewn about the room, but it did have a couple of cots set up. Michelle guessed that this would be were more of the group would be sleeping.

_It's just like an odd slumber party,_ she mused as she changed. _Except without the truth or dare, hair braiding, and raiding the fridge in the middle of the night..._

She grinned as the image of pirates looting a fridge popped into her mind. When she was done changing, she gathered her "future" clothes in a pile and exited the room.

She left the way she came, suddenly nervous about getting lost in the shack.

_It sure didn't look this big in the movies,_ she thought, edging around a table piled with assorted jars and boxes.

Smiling, Michelle remembered Captain Jack Sparrow's infamous jar of dirt.

_Maybe Will and I will get one,_ she thought. _Will and I..._

She couldn't help blushing as she thought about him. Sure, she thought he was dreamy, being played by Orlando Bloom and all--_but he's not being played; here he's a real person,_ Michelle thought--but that didn't mean she would like him like that--did it?

She decided she would blame the whole thing on Monica.

Michelle finally reached the large room they had all been gathered in before. She noticed that Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Elizabeth, and Will were still there, talking quietly, as well as Barbossa, Pintel and Ragetti, who seemed to be having a conversation of their own.

With her mind on these two groups, marveling that she was in the same room with them, she didn't notice Tia Dalma step out of the shadows next to her. The voodoo lady touched her arm lightly, but Michelle jumped anyway.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you," Michelle stammered, her heart beating a mile a minute.

Tia Dalma smiled, revealing blackened teeth. "'sno mattah. I only wanted ta speak wid you."

"Um, okay," Michelle said nervously, gripping her clothes more tightly to her.

Tia Dalma smiled again, wider this time, and led the way to the room she had been in before, the one with the beads over the doorway.

Michelle followed cautiously, moving the beads aside with a free hand. She looked around in awe, her mouth slightly open.

The room was lined with shelves, each one packed with all sorts of odd items. Michelle saw jewelry, ancient-looking tomes, dead animals, unrecognizable items in jars, rags, clothes, and even something she thought looked like a live python.

Now terrified, Michelle moved slowly into the room, her eyes darting around warily.

Something ran across her bare feet.

She screamed in surprise, jumping backwards and landing on a low couch-type piece of furniture. She looked at the ground to see Jack the monkey looking up at her quizzically.

"Get out of 'ere!" Tia Dalma said sharply. For a moment, Michelle thought she was talking to her, but then she realized she was gesturing angrily to the monkey.

Jack didn't budge, still staring at Michelle. His head cocked, he sat back and screeched.

Michelle jumped, but Tia Dalma rolled her eyes. "Ah, 'e's not doin' any 'arm," she muttered, waving Jack away. He gave Michelle one last curious look, then leaped up onto the table next to the couch Michelle was on.

_What is this, her bed?_ Michelle thought wonderingly, looking around. Then, she realized that this was the couch Barbossa had been laying on the first time Jack and company had come to Tia Dalma's shack.

She froze, a wave of dizziness sweeping over her. She took a few deep breaths to calm down.

_You're fine, you're fine,_ she thought to herself, closing her eyes. _It's no big deal...there was just a dead guy on this for a while, that's all..._

Michelle's eyes snapped open as Tia Dalma spoke.

"How's your back?" she asked. Michelle realized she was sitting in a chair across the table.

"Fine, thanks...but I don't think I told you what--"

"You didn't," Tia Dalma said simply.

Michelle stared at her.

The witch smiled. "You don't 'ave ta tell me anyting, miss. Now, I wanted ta talk to you about something on your 'and."

"My hand?" Michelle repeated nervously. 

"Yes, your 'and," Tia Dalma said. "Gimme it." 

Michelle dubiously extended her right arm towards the woman, but she held up a finger.

"Udder 'and," she said, smirking.

Staring, Michelle gave her left hand to the voodoo woman.

Tia Dalma said nothing as she flipped Michelle's hand over, inspecting her palm. A smile spread over her face as she traced her lifeline.

"Ahh," she breathed, running her finger along the tiny crease in the girl's hand. "Yes. Dis is it."

"This is what?" Michelle asked, alarmed.

"Your lifeline," Tia Dalma said shortly.

Michelle waited. She knew about her lifeline; there had to be more that the witch had to say.

Sure enough, there was. Tia Dalma gestured for Michelle to lean across the table, pointing to her palm. Michelle obeyed, laying her clothes next to her on the couch.

When she was leaning over the table, Michelle glanced up at Tia Dalma, whose eyes were on her palm. She looked down to watch her long finger trace her lifeline.

Michelle watched solemnly as Tia Dalma reached the break in the line, the gap that interrupted the crease in her hand.

"'ow long 'ave you 'ad dis?" Tia Dalma asked, her glance flicking up to Michelle and back to her palm again.

"As long as I can remember," Michelle said softly, looking at the woman steadfastly. "Why?"

"I tink dis will come into play during your time 'ere," Tia Dalma said slyly. "Do you know what it means?"

Michelle shook her head, entranced by this woman. How had she known about her broken lifeline? It's not like she could have seen it...no one could have seen it.

"Dis is your lifeline. It goes on well until about 'ere, where it veers off ta one side. Den, dere is nutting...den, it picks back up again, on a different side," Tia Dalma said, tracing her finger along the line as she spoke. "It means your life will come to an end, briefly, but you will come back...doh in what manner, I do not know."

Michelle looked up at her, alarmed. "You mean...am I going to die here?" she asked.

"It's very likely."

"But I'll...come back? What do you mean?"

Tia Dalma shook her head. "I do not know. You may not even die here. It's just a guess. I chose ta warn you, doh. And I tink you would do well ta warn the udders, too. Dey may do someting rash if dey tink you're--"

"Dead," Michelle said hollowly. "I'm going to be dead, and come back to life..."

There was a silence. Tia Dalma released Michelle's hand and leaned back in her chair. Michelle remained in the same position, too wrapped up in her thoughts to move.

Suddenly, the beads clinked together as someone moved them aside. Michelle jumped and swung her head around to see Barbossa standing there.

Jack screeched. He leaped on the couch behind Michelle, making her gasp, and jumped up onto his master's shoulder.

"Sorry to bother you," Barbossa said, his raspy voice low. "I thought I would find Jack in here."

"An' ya did," Tia Dalma said, smiling at Barbossa warmly.

Barbossa returned the smile, nodded to Michelle, and exited the room.

Michelle took a deep breath, thoroughly shaken by seeing that man before her. Yes, it was true, she had thrown down a juice box in anger when she had seen him on the big screen--which had been pretty funny, actually--but now, she couldn't exactly have an angry outburst every time she saw Barbossa.

"I tink it's time you got ta bed," Tia Dalma said suddenly.

Michelle nodded, hardly sure of what she was doing. She picked up her clothes and stood.

"Thank you for the clothes and the place to stay," she said seriously, breathing hard. "And...for the...advice."

She turned and exited the room, not bothering to move the beads out of the way as she left.

She felt numb. _What was she talking about, with me dying and coming back to life?_ she thought, staring at the floor as she made her way back to the staircase. _Could she be telling the truth? But what would she gain by lying to me about my fate?_

Michelle nearly ran into the door because she was so distracted by what had just happened. She groped for the handle and swung the door open.

She found Alison and Monica talking quietly in the room, and she was forcefully reminded of the two groups she had seen standing separately downstairs.

"Hey," Michelle said softly. "What'd I miss?"

"Nothing much," Alison shrugged.

"Yeah, Alison still thinks she's going crazy," Monica said, grinning.

"Ah. Well, that was to be expected," Michelle replied, smiling weakly.

Alison frowned. "What's the matter? You look like you're about to faint again," she said, looking concerned.

"Nothing happened with Will, did it?" Monica said, suddenly looking alarmed.

"No...no," Michelle, staring ahead of her. "I'm just tired," she said, smiling at her sisters.

Monica nodded sympathetically. "Yeah, we've had a pretty tiring day. I was pretty zonked after my first day."

Alison rolled her eyes. "You want us to ask what happened, don't you?" she asked, smiling at her younger sister.

Monica nodded eagerly, grinning.

"Well, you don't have to drop giant hints anymore. Tell us what happened," Alison said.

Monica looked pleased. "Alright! Where to begin? Okay, it all started that day you went shopping for dresses for the wedding..."

She continued to tell them about her adventure in the Pirates world, from when she had landed on the Pearl to when she left Jack sitting on a makeshift raft after she had kissed him. Alison looked amused throughout, but was at least a better listener than Michelle, who seemed distracted.

Monica was oblivious, wrapped up in the past, when she had gone on so many adventures with Jack. "Isn't that exciting?" she asked earnestly.

"Wow. You did all that?" Alison asked, impressed.

Monica nodded proudly. "God, it was so much fun...probably the best time of my life...she trailed off, and her gaze fell on Michelle. "Aren't you impressed?" she asked, pretending to be about to cry.

Michelle nodded. Although she hadn't reacted much to what her sister had said, she had indeed been listening. "Yes...yes, yes I am," she said quickly, not wanting her sisters to notice how distracted she was.

Monica and Alison noticed, of course. They figured it was just her energy running low.

"So, how did things go with Will?" Monica asked, grinning.

"What?" Michelle said. "Oh, _that_," she said, smiling. "Nothing exciting...he just walked me to the room..."

"That's it?" Monica said, sounding disappointed. Alison rolled her eyes.

"Monica, we already discussed this," she said, shaking her head.

"I know, but it's still cool," Monica said seriously. "So did you talk or anything?" she asked Michelle, leaning forward earnestly.

"What, am I in high school again or something? I could have sworn I've already graduated," Michelle said, grinning.

"Hey, this is a special case!" Monica said, looking offended.

"Yeah, you might never get a chance to hook up with Orlando Bloom again," Alison smirked.

"Look, all that happened was talking," Michelle said, grinning sheepishly now. "But it doesn't even matter anyway, because he's got Elizabeth."

"Which is exactly what I said!" Alison exclaimed.

"Heh...don't look at me!" Monica said innocently, shrugging and splaying her hands out, palms up. "So was he waiting for you after you changed?"

"No, I just left...and then..." Michelle trailed off, her eyes falling on Monica's palms.

"And then _what_?" Monica asked, mollified, dropping her hands.

"Nothing. I mean, and then I walked back up here," Michelle said quickly. If there was one talent she prided herself on, it was her ability to lie to people's faces.

"Darn," Monica said, snapping her fingers. "Ah, well...now we just need to work on setting Alison up with Gibbs..."

"What!" Alison shrieked.

Michelle and Monica laughed at her alarmed expression. Monica flopped onto the bed, stuffing her clothes far underneath it.

Michelle stared at her strange behavior.

"Don't ask," Monica said, remembering the time she had accidentally thrown up on her own clothes.

Michelle shrugged and turned to Alison.

"So where are we going to sleep?" she asked.

Just as Alison shook her head, there was a knock on the door.

Monica sat bolt upright on the bed, her eyes glinting. Alison grinned at her, and then called, "Come in!"

Tia Dalma entered the room, holding pillows and blankets. Alison noticed a look of disappointment on Monica's face and a look of apprehension on Michelle's.

_That's strange,_ she thought as she walked up to the voodoo woman. _What does she have to fear from Tia Dalma?_

"Thank you," Alison said gratefully to Tia Dalma, who smiled politely at her. Her gaze slid to Monica, who was sitting on the bed, and finally to Michelle, who was watching her warily.

_Please, _please_ don't say anything!_ Michelle thought silently.

"Good night," was all Tia Dalma said before picking up her heavy skirts and exiting the room.

"Whew, I wasn't looking forward to sleeping on the wood," Alison said, not noticing Michelle's breath of relief. She handed Michelle a pillow and a couple thick blankets.

Michelle took them and stared at them for a while, collecting her thoughts. She didn't want Alison and Monica to know anything about what Tia Dalma had said to her yet, not wanting them to worry.

_I know I'll have to tell them sometime,_ she thought, dropping the bedding onto the floor. _Just not yet._

She spread one of the blankets out on the floor, dropped the pillow onto it, and draped the other blanket on top, forming a nice little pallet. A few feet away, Alison did the same.

There was silence for a moment as the Connors sisters reviewed the day in their minds.

"So, Alison, do you have a problem with this anymore?" Monica asked cautiously.

"What, you mean being in a movie world?" Alison replied, yawning. "Nah, I think I'm getting used to it, actually."

"Good," said Monica. "Because I was going to go through with this whether I had your approval or not."

Alison smiled and lay down on her makeshift bed. "Yeah, I figured...but I just can't understand how comfortable you are here."

"Yeah, well, I've done this before," Monica said, smirking. "But the time before...no, actually, I adjusted pretty well," she mused, frowning. "Hmm. I guess you guys are just idiots or something."

"Or something," Alison muttered, grinning. "Well, I know _you'd_ have to be, trying to hook me up with Mr. Gibbs...so who are we hooking _you?_ up with, Monica? Pintel? Ragetti?"

"Haha, no, I don't think so," Monica said, grinning. "That reminds me...do you think they'll be loyal to Jack or Barbossa when they get the chance?"

Alison pondered this. "I don't know...they did maroon Jack when they sided with Barbossa...but they agreed to rescue him even before Barbossa was in the picture..."

"I saw them all talking when I was downstairs," Michelle said suddenly. "Pintel, Ragetti, and Barbossa."

"Great. Well, if they're all together, they'll turn against me, too, because there's no way I'm leaving Jack behind," Monica said, sounding determined.

"Well, that settles that, then," Alison said, grinning.

"Settles what?"

"Who you're getting together with. Jack, obviously."

"Shut up! He's my friend!" Monica said, but she couldn't help grinning, too.

"Well, yeah, you kissed him, didn't you?" Michelle said slyly, her spirits rising. "And he kissed you back!"

"No--that was because--" Monica said, frustrated. "Aw, just shut up! We need to get some sleep, anyway. We've all got big days ahead of us."

"Tell me about it," Alison muttered. "I'm going to Port Royal...freaking _Port Royal_...man, this is weird..."

"Yeah, and I'm going to save Captain Jack Sparrow with his enemy, Barbossa!" Monica quipped. "All in a day's work..."

"And I'm going to face Davy Jones to save Will Turner's father," Michelle said softly.

There was an awkward silence.

"See, I told you we needed sleep," Monica joked feebly. "Now we're getting anxious about tomorrow...just think about...something else..."

And she had drifted off to sleep in the next few moments.

Alison lay awake for a while, trying not to think about the danger they were about to get into. Finally, however, her mind drifted off into a dream of yesteryear, and she too was asleep.

Sleep was not so easy for Michelle. She could rarely sleep, anyway, and she hardly expected she would get any tonight. What with being sucked into _Pirates of the Caribbean_ through her old dryer, learned that her sister had gone through the same thing and kept it all a secret, been sent on a mission to save a fictional character, and been told that she would die and come back to life all in the same night.

No, she definitely wouldn't be getting any sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

Alison woke to a gentle knocking on the door.

"Whozair?" she heard Monica say groggily from the bed.

"Um, it's me, Elizabeth," a voice said. "Are you ready to go?"

Monica sat up, alarmed.

"Uh, can you give us a moment?" Monica called.

"Sure..." Elizabeth's voice said through the door. Alison heard her going down the staircase.

"Are y'all awake?" Monica asked tentatively.

"I am," Alison said, "but I can't say the same for Michelle."

She was sound asleep, snuggled up in the blanket Tia Dalma had given her, clutching her pillow to her tightly.

"You think she's dreaming about Will?" Monica asked, grinning.

Alison said nothing, staring down at Michelle solemnly. She wished she was still asleep, away from this crazy scenario.

"O-kay," Monica said dubiously when Alison didn't answer. "Well, wake her up, then," she said, turning to the bed.

Alison preferred not to wake her, knowing that in her dreams she wasn't worried about going on adventures with fictional characters.

Although she had stopped bitching about it, Alison was not yet ready to admit that she had been sucked through her dryer. Accepting that was like admitting her own insanity! No, it was best for her to go through the motions, as it were, and not believe anything she saw.

She knelt down to her sleeping sister and shook her shoulder gently. "Wake up," she said softly. "Time to face the day..."

Alison stood up, feeling slightly guilty as Michelle's eyes cracked open.

Michelle sat up and rubbed her eyes. "What's going on?" she said, suppressing a yawn.

"We're getting ready to leave," Monica said from the bed. She watched her sister carefully, noticing her put a hand gingerly on her back.

"Does your back still hurt?" Monica asked her, concerned.

"Just a little," Michelle replied. "Actually, I almost forgot about it..."

"Sorry," Monica said, embarrassed. "I forgot...I would've given you the bed..."

"No problem," Michelle said, smiling. "It's not that bad."

Moments later, when the Connors sisters had made sure their hair wasn't too messy and their clothes were relatively unwrinkled, they made their way downstairs.

Monica led the way, looking excited but apprehensive. Alison followed close behind, looking around warily, determined not to let the reality of her situation get to her. And Michelle trailed behind, looking at her feet, her mind elsewhere...

As the girls entered the main room of the shack, Tia Dalma stopped them.

"I tink you'll be needing deese," she said, holding up three pairs of boots.

Monica grinned at her and took the boots. "Thanks," she said happily, keeping the large brown boots for herself, handing the black ones to Michelle, and giving the smaller brown ones to Alison.

Once they had pulled the boots on, they gathered around Tia Dalma's table, where the witch had already seated herself.

"Do you all 'ave your plans?" she asked evenly, her eyes roving about the room.

Mr. Gibbs, Will, and Barbossa all nodded. Monica sudden felt worried. Was she supposed to have a plan, too? Honestly, all she planned on doing was following Barbossa around.

"We're going to Port Royal to get the heart of Davy Jones--" Will began.

"--and to save my father," Elizabeth interrupted, shooting Will a glance, which wasn't returned.

"Yes...and then Michelle and I will go looking for my father," he continued, his eyes raising to Michelle's.

Michelle swallowed hard and gave Will a little nod. Will gave her a tiny smile and turned back to Tia Dalma.

"And we're going looking for Jack," Barbossa said simply, looking at Tia Dalma. "But we need to go to Tortuga first."

"Tortuga? Isn't that kinda far away?" Monica asked tentatively.

"It's the best place we've got," Gibbs said to her. "I know people there, so if we need a crew, that's the ideal place to get one. And we can get a ship if we need it, and supplies."

"And it's relatively close to Port Royal," Elizabeth added.

Monica nodded. "So, when we're there, we'll all go our separate ways?"

Barbossa nodded. "We will need to leave as soon as possible to go looking for Jack."

Tia Dalma reached for a black bag on her table, brushing the items in front of her out of the way, revealing a chart of some sort. She opened the bag, reached in it, and took out...crab claws.

She held the claws gingerly in one hand as she tossed the bag away. Then, clasping the claws in both hands, she closed her eyes and began to chant in a different language.

Monica remembered that she had done nearly the exact same thing in _Dead Man's Chest_ when Jack was looking for the Flying Dutchman.

Suddenly, Tia Dalma's voice rose and she tossed the claws onto the chart. Opening her eyes, she studied the chart carefully, then reached for a pile of maps that littered her table. She picked through these, careful not to disturb the crab claws.

Finally, she took a map from the pile and pointed at it, looking at Barbossa. He moved to her side, studying the map intently, then tucked the map into his jacket, nodding at Tia Dalma in thanks.

When he moved back, Tia Dalma stood up. "I 'ave a boat you can use to get to Tortuga," she said. "You and da girls can use it, and da uddders can go in da boat dey came in."

She led Barbossa to a back room to help him with the boat. When the two were gone, the rest of the group moved to the porch to await the boat.

Monica heard a splashing and looked around to see Barbossa rowing towards the porch in Tia Dalma's boat. It was smaller than the one from the Black Pearl, but large enough to seat four people comfortably. Monica moved forward mutely and stepped into the boat, reluctantly taking the seat closest to Barbossa. Alison came in next, taking the middle seat, and Michelle entered last, shaking. She had always hated boats.

Barbossa rowed a little ways away to let the rest of the group load up. Gibbs grabbed the rope that was tied to his boat and pulled it in. Once they were all in, he shoved off.

Monica turned to take in Tia Dalma's shack one last time, but she was surprised to see that the voodoo woman was no longer there.

She turned her head forward, eager to see what adventures awaited her in the future.

It took seven days to get to Tortuga. Early on in their journey, they had managed to alert a passing ship of their presence, and the captain had been kind enough to let them on. He seemed oblivious to the fact that most of the group were pirates, not questioning what they were doing in the open ocean in a couple of longboats.

There wasn't much to do on the ship, as it had a full able-bodied crew, so Alison took the oppurtunity to talk to Elizabeth.

_I'm going to be helping her save her father--who doesn't even exist!_ she thought once as she looked for her. _We might as well be on speaking terms._

Alison finally found her one clear, breezy afternoon. Elizabeth was leaning her forearms on the side of the ships, staring out to sea. Alison hesitated, wondering if she should bother her. Finally, she decided to just go for it.

She moved next to Elizabeth, taking the same position. When she didn't protest, Alison began a conversation.

"So...looks like we're in this together, huh?" she said, smiling. She cursed herself for sounding so stupid.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes," she said, still staring out over the ocean.

Alison sighed and continued talking. "Look, you obviously know more about fighting than I do, so I was wondering if you could..."

She trailed off, thinking about how silly she felt. For crying out loud, this girl wasn't even real!

"Train you?" Elizabeth said, finally tearing her eyes from the sea. Alison nodded, relieved she had gotten her to look at her.

"Yeah, but I don't think I'm so good with a sword," Alison said, smiling. "That's why I asked so early on."

Elizabeth considered for a moment. Then, "How are you with a pistol?"

Alison grinned. "I'd say I'm a pretty fair shot," she replied. "I've had experience with guns before."

Elizabeth was silent for a while, staring at Alison as if sizing her up.

"Alright," she said eventually, finally showing some interest in her companion. "Let's see what we can do..."

She led the way below deck to the quarters she shared with the Connors sisters. Once inside, she knelt to a small trunk at the edge of her cot, opened it, and began searching through her belongings.

"Here," she said, producing a rusty, long-barreled pistol.

Alison took it. "Thanks," she said as Elizabeth closed her trunk and stood up.

"And now..." Elizabeth appeared to be thinking, and then abruptly left the room. Alison followed obediently.

Elizabeth looked about the larger room, searching through the crates. Alison waited patiently for instruction, holding the pistol gingerly.

Finally, Elizabeth returned, holding a lot of old cans and a couple of ratty old mismatched boots. She lined these up on a shelf next to the wall of the ship.

"Ah," said Alison, grinning. "Target practice."

Elizabeth said nothing, but continued straightening up her targets. When she was done, she returned to Alison's side. "Alright, cock it," she said.

Alison fumbled with the switch a bit, going off what she had seen in movies. When she figured it out, she pressed hard on the switch, adding extra pressure because of the amount of rust on it.

"Uh, are you sure this is safe?" she asked nervously. She was, in fact, thinking about Monica's adventure--about the time Decklan had grabbed her gun to shoot Jack, but the gun had backfired, killing Decklan instead.

"Yes, yes, it's fine," Elizabeth said calmly. "Now, you want to aim it, nice and slowly, and breathe slowly, too--"

Alison aimed and fired.

Her bullet made a clean hole through one of the ancient-looking cans.

Elizabeth's jaw dropped. Alison looked quite pleased with herself.

"What can I say? I'm a natural!" she said, grinning.

"Beginner's luck," Elizabeth muttered. "Now, try again, but this time, try--"

Alison fired again, this time knocking a can over. Then again and again, knocking over a can and shooting a hole through one of the raggedy boots.

Elizabeth, thrilled, gave Alison another pistol she had found in one of the crates. Alison took it in her left hand and started firing both pistols, one at a time.

She quickly emptied the one in her right hand, all of her bullets hitting their targets. She shot the rest of the cans with her other pistol until it was empty.

Elizabeth stared at the damage done to the cans and boots. Alison blew the smoke away from the barrel proudly.

"Well, it doesn't look like you need a sword," Elizabeth said, grinning for the first time in a while.

Michelle took advantage of the long time spent on the ship, too, seeing it as a time to talk with Will. It was easy enough to find him—wherever Elizabeth was, he wasn't.

Michelle found him one night sitting on the deck on a crate, sharpening his sword. Michelle walked up to him, suddenly nervous.

"Hi," she said shyly. "Do you mind if I join you?"

"No, not at all," Will said, giving her a warm smile.

Michelle took her place next to him on a nearby crate.

"How's your back?" Will asked, sounding concerned.

"Oh, it's okay, thanks," Michelle said. "To tell the truth, I haven't been thinking about it much...I've had a lot on my mind..."

"Mm-hmm," Will said distractedly. Michelle looked up curiously to see what the matter was.

Elizabeth had just walked across the deck, hurrying to go below to her quarters.

Michelle, sensing Will's discomfort, thought quickly.

_Should I bring up what Elizabeth did?_ she thought, watching Will's face carefully. _No...it wouldn't be right...I'm just a stranger from the future, after all...it's not right for me to talk about personal things._

She kept silent, thinking Will would say something when ready.

Sure enough, he did. "Do you have any weapons?" he asked, his eyes flickering across the deck.

Michelle shook her head mutely, watching Will's face carefully, but he seemed to have gotten past Elizabeth for the moment.

"We'll have to get you some in Tortuga," he said thoughtfully, sliding the whetstone down the edge of his sword. "If we ever get there, that is..."

Michelle's face broke into a smile. "Really...at the rate we're going, it'll be weeks!"

This began a conversation about the speed of certain ships, pirate or not. The two of them talked late into the night, neither of them feeling sleepy.

Monica poked her head around the corner of her room, looking around warily. She had been avoiding Pintel and Ragetti for the past few days, sure they were conspiring with Barbossa against her and Jack.

Seeing no one around, she took a few large, cautious steps towards the stairs, ready to dart forward and run to the deck. But before she got very far, she heard an all-too familiar voice behind her.

"'ello, poppet."

Monica froze, then turned around slowly to see Pintel and Ragetti standing between her and her room, the very last people she wanted to meet. Well, besides Barbossa.

"Hey, guys," she said, plastering a weak smile on her face. "What's up?"

Pintel gave her a condescending look, clearly amused at her nervousness. "Don't worry, poppet. We're not here to hurt ya." Monica heard Ragetti echoing his words behind him.

"I'm not worried!" Monica squeaked, her voice clearly saying otherwise.

Again with the look. "You're trembling," Pintel smirked.

"I'm...tired. Yes! I'm very, very tired, and I just want to get to bed, so if you'll excuse me--"

She began to push her way through the two pirates to her quarters, but they each grabbed one of her arms and pushed her back.

Monica sighed, sure they were about to beat her up or something. "Look, guys, I don't have any money or booty or anything--"

Pintel chuckled, and Ragetti let out a little giggle, which made his eye fall out. He dove to the ground to retrieve it, Pintel rolling his eyes above him. When Ragetti stood up, he had stuck the false eye back in its socket, but it had gone in backwards. Monica watched, revolted, as it rolled slowly to look at her.

"Ugh, that is so much more disgusting in person," she grumbled. "So, what do you want?" she asked Pintel.

"Just to talk," he said vaguely.

"About what?" Monica asked warily.

"Loyalty." ("Loyalty!" Ragetti whispered happily behind him.)

"Loyalty?" Monica repeated. "What could pirates possibly have to say about loyalty?"

"Just that you better give yours to the right person," Pintel said menacingly.

"And if I don't?" Monica asked coolly.

Pintel drew his hand across his throat, making a sickening slicing sound.

"Oh," Monica said, looking mildly surprised.

"Right, so you'd better choose the right side!" Ragetti said threateningly, his eye nearly popping out of the socket again.

"Right...and I wonder who the right guy is," Monica muttered under her breath. "Well, I certainly wouldn't want to make the wrong choice," she said, feigning innocence. "Because I wouldn't want to end up _cursed_ or something...wait! Didn't that happen to someone?" She tapped her chin, pretending to be deep in thought. "Oh! It was _you!_" she exclaimed. "Oh, _I_ remember now...you picked Barbossa over Jack, and you ended up cursed, unfeeling pirates! Good job, boys! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to find something to eat."

And with that, she turned on her heel and ran up the staircase to the deck, leaving Pintel and Ragetti looking furious behind her.

When the ship reached Tortuga, the group thanked the captain and crew and gathered on the docks.

"So what now?" Will asked Mr. Gibbs.

"Supplies," he answered. "Weapons, clothes--"

"Food," Ragetti said quickly.

"And rum!" Marty added.

Gibbs grinned. "Well, that was understood."

Barbossa interrupted their chuckles. "Pintel, Ragetti, Miss Connors and I are going to get a ship," he said matter-of-factly.

"What--commandeer one?" Monica asked stupidly.

Barbossa nodded slowly, as if losing his patience.

"Sweet! I'm there," Monica said, grinning.

"That was already established," Barbossa growled.

"What about a ship to get to Port Royal?" Elizabeth asked quickly.

"I've already settled that," Gibbs said. "The captain of the ship we were just on has agreed to take us to Port Royal."

"And how much persuasion did that take?" Will asked, smiling.

"Uh, not that much," Gibbs said, glancing at Barbossa, who was smirking to himself.

"Anyway, we'll get supplies," Gibbs said, gesturing to Will, Elizabeth, Michelle, Alison, Cotton, and Marty. "We used up a lot of the captain's supplies--he wasn't too happy about that--but, anyway, it may take us a while to get what we need."

"True dat," Monica said.

Everyone stared at her.

"And we need to get weapons," Alison said quickly, drawing the attention away from her eccentric sister to herself.

Michelle nodded earnestly, grateful for Alison's intervention. Barbossa looked like he was seriously regretting Monica come with him.

Barbossa shook his head as if to shake away the thought of the strange fifteen-year-old. "Well. Let's go to the tavern," he said, looking at Pintel and Ragetti.

"Why?" Monica asked, frowning.

"We need to hear about any new ships coming into port," he explained. "And I need a drink anyway...let's go."

And without another word, he turned and left. Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other, shrugged, and followed.

Monica turned to the rest of the group.

"Well, I guess this is goodbye, then," she said, eyebrows slightly raised.

She turned to her sisters. "See ya," she said, grinning. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, but if you do--"

"--name it after me," Alison and Michelle said in unison with their sister, reciting one of the sayings Monica adored.

Monica hugged Michelle briefly, then Alison, then, grinning, brought a hand to her head as if tipping her hat to the group, and then ran up the path to catch up with Pintel, Ragetti, and Barbossa.


	5. Chapter 5

Monica's smile faded as she caught up to the three pirates. Barbossa, hearing her steps, turned around, but a sour look crossed his face as he noticed the teenager walking behind him. Monica didn't see this, being too preoccupied with her own thoughts.

As the four of them trudged up the path to the square of Tortuga, Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti muttered to each other, leaving Monica panting behind.

"Oh, sure, leave me out of the loop," she huffed, casting an angry look at Barbossa. He ignored her.

Monica rolled her eyes and looked around. It was late afternoon, and people were already beginning to get rowdy. Everywhere she looked, she saw people with bottles in their hands, their speech getting louder and more slurred with every drink.

_Good ol' Tortuga,_ she thought, smirking. _Now there's one thing I can count on to be the same as last time._

Thinking this, Monica became more serious, thinking about the last time she had been here and what had been different. She remembered walking up this same path with Jack, discussing what "spaz" meant.

_Whoa, that was weird,_ she thought, smiling wistfully at the memory. _Did he ever really get it? Yes, I think so..._

Suddenly there was a burning in her eyes. Surprised, she nearly stopped short.

_What the..._ she thought, blinking rapidly. _Are those…tears?_

She frowned, suddenly embarrassed. She realized she had almost cried when thinking of Jack.

She rolled her eyes, this time trying to dry the tears in her eyes. Swallowing hard, she rubbed her eyes, having to slow down as she walked.

This time Barbossa noticed. He turned around to see Monica walking slowly, massaging her eyelids with her fingertips.

"Something the matter, Miss Connors?" he asked suspiciously, stopping.

Monica jerked her hands away from her face, surprised. "No," she said quickly, blinking furiously. "Why would there be?"

The three pirates stared at her. She glanced at each one of them in turn, pretending to be bewildered.

"Right," she muttered, walking on ahead, gently nudging Ragetti out of her way with her elbow.

Barbossa stared after her, his eyes narrowed. After a moment, he continued up the path, shaking his head slightly. Pintel and Ragetti exchanged confused looks, then followed.

When the group reached the square, they found many brawls taking place, as well as an excessive amount of drinking going on.

_Which was to be expected,_ Monica thought, stepping to the side to avoid a bottle being thrown at her.

She glanced at Barbossa, who was surveying the scene. His expression was unreadable.

Then a smile broke across his face.

"I haven't been here in years," he murmured, his smile growing broader. He grinned at Pintel and Ragetti. "Gents, I take it you have some business to attend to?"

The two of them grinned at each other and nodded at their captain, who smirked back.

"Uh, guys?" Monica said tentatively, raising her voice against all the yelling that was going on in the square.

Their heads snapped around to look at the girl. Apparently, they had almost forgotten she was there.

"What's going on?" Monica asked, smiling weakly. "I mean…are we gonna get a ship, weapons, rum, what?" She gave a smile that looked more like a grimace, showing her anxiety about being stuck in Tortuga with three pirates.

"Miss Connors, we've not been able to eat, drink, or feel in years," Barbossa said, moving closer to Monica so they wouldn't be overheard.

"But, Pintel and Ragetti have—" Monica began, but Barbossa interrupted her.

"Well, they haven't had much time for enjoying their earthly abilities while they were on some grand adventure," Barbossa said, smirking. "And as for me…well, it's been even longer, and I've only just come back."

He laughed, and Pintel and Ragetti joined in heartily. Monica just frowned at them incredulously.

"So, uh…am I invited to this little party?" she asked, almost afraid to know the answer.

Barbossa chuckled and put an arm around her shoulder, shaking her gently like she was an old friend. Monica's frowned and her eyes widened, giving her a look of disgusted alarm.

"Now, now, Miss Connors—" he began.

"Please, call me Monica," Monica choked, turning away from Barbossa's bad breath.

_Geez, has he brushed his teeth since he was cursed?_ she thought disgustedly. _Look at them; they're about to fall out!_

"Monica," he continued, smiling. "I don't think you would _want_ to come along on our little trip. And, quite frankly, I don't think any of us want you around, either."

"Fine with me," Monica muttered. "But what am I supposed to do?"

"Go to one of the taverns," Barbossa instructed. "See if you can find word of a small ship coming into port."

Monica nodded, hoping he would release his grip on her.

"Good!" He finally dropped his arm. Monica edged away, faking a smile.

"Oh, what about money?" she asked quickly. "How will I get weapons and food?"

Barbossa gave her a condescending look. "Are you a pirate or aren't ya?" he asked, smirking.

"Ah," she said, arching an eyebrow and nodding slightly. _I should've known…_ She plastered a cheery smile on her face. "Well…have a good night!"

Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti turned and went the opposite direction, disappearing into an overflowing pub.

As soon as they were gone, Monica's smile transformed into a grimace, and she let out a loud moan.

"What the hell does he think he's doing!" she muttered angrily to herself, walking further into the square. "We've got to find Jack…"

But this was only one of her worries. How would she find them again? What if they just left her stranded? Would she be able to find her sisters again, too? What if they did come back, and decided not to help her at all?

Monica sighed as she walked, looking gloomily around at the drunks around her.

_Well, at least they're happy,_ she thought sullenly, her eyes lingering on a woman who was drinking deeply from a mug she had just stolen from a man who had passed out against a large barrel.

Her eyes shifted around the square. She wasn't sure what she was looking for, anything to get her motivated, a clue or something—

"Oh, _no_," she breathed, staring ahead of her.

She had spotted Giselle lingering in front of one of the shops, turning on the charm for a middle-aged drunkard. Unfortunately, Giselle had spotted her, too.

_SHIT!_ Monica thought, grimacing and turning away slowly, raising a hand to block her face from the woman.

But someone grabbed her arm.

Monica looked up slowly, dreading confrontation with the woman. But it wasn't a woman. It was a drunk guy, about 30 years old.

"What the--!" Monica wrenched her arm away, disgruntled. She turned, but the man seized her hand.

"Hey, watch it, Bozo, I'm walkin' here!" she yelled angrily, but he didn't let go, just stared at her with glazed over eyes. Monica tried to jerk her hand away, but the man only tightened his grip, chuckling with delight. Monica rolled her eyes and looked around, knowing the guy wasn't going anywhere soon.

Finally, she saw her opportunity. An old drunk man walked past here, waving a thick wooden cane in his hand and talking to no one in particular. Monica seized the cane. Luckily, the old guy didn't even miss it.

Monica promptly cracked the cane over her assailant's head. He was knocked out immediately, probably from a combination of rum and the blow to his head.

Monica wrenched her hand away and tossed the cane to it, twirling it happily for a bit, trying to look calm. But that guy rattled her pretty badly. She had had experiences with drunks in Tortuga, and not all of them were the drink-till-ya-drop type. Some were the drink-and-make-others-drop kind.

"Sparrow?"

Monica nearly dropped the cane, but straightened up immediately after feigning a cough. She turned around, trying to look nonchalant.

But her face quickly paled—Giselle was standing before her, her hands on her hips.

"Uh…" Monica said stupidly. Fortunately, she was spared answering by another woman appearing at Giselle's side.

_Well, if you can call that fortunate,_ Monica thought grimly, gripping the cane nervously. _That's Scarlett, isn't it!_

"_This_ is Jack's daughter?" the redhead asked, obviously unimpressed.

Giselle nodded. "Not much to look at, is she?" she said snootily, glaring at Monica, who gave her a mollified look.

"Whoa, no need for that," she said cautiously, raising her hands to her chest in defense. "Can I help you?" she asked politely, wanting to get out of there as soon as possible.

"Where's your father?" Giselle asked, sneering at Monica.

"He's dead," Monica said honestly.

The two women were quite taken aback. They stared at Monica, wondering if she was joking.

"Uh…sorry," Monica said lamely, turning around, leaving Giselle and Scarlett standing in the street, stunned.

_How many encounters am I gonna have here before I leave?_ Monica thought, heading down the square. _Hopefully, not too many more…I know I'm popular, but geez!_

Smirking to herself, she looked around at the shops, wondering where to find weapons. Finally, she spotted a blacksmith's shop. Reminded of Will, she smiled to herself, and entered.

She opened the door, wincing as it squeaked on its rusty hinges. Shutting it softly behind her, she walked down the dusty stone steps into the room, exploring the place with her eyes.

It was much like the one Will worked at, with the furnace, wooden machines, and swords hanging everywhere, but, to Monica's dismay…

"There's no donkey!" she breathed, disappointed.

She heard a soft clunk. Alarmed, she froze, glancing around wildly, but she saw no movement. She began to creep cautiously to where she thought the sound had come from—in one of the back rooms—but stopped, deciding to take a sword.

_Just in case,_ she thought, lifting one gently off its holder on one of the wooden machines. Feeling a little braver, she made her way to the door, swallowing hard.

When she reached it, she took a deep breath and tried to slow her heartbeat.

_It's probably nothing,_ she thought, taking the handle. _Why am I getting so worked up about this? So I heard a little clunk, that doesn't mean there'll be a horde of pirates waiting on the other side of the door, ready to run me through with their sharp, rusty swords—_

She stopped before she could freak herself out any more. Inhaling deeply, she turned the handle and swung the door open.

She brandished the sword, looking around wildly, and saw…

…a drunk guy.

Dropping her sword, she let out a long breath. Feeling like an idiot, she shook her head, breathing heavily.

_Of course there's gonna be a drunk dude,_ she thought furiously. _I'm in freakin' Tortuga!_

Still angry with herself and her rattled wits, she studied the man. He was an older guy, overweight, dirty, and unshaven. He was sound asleep, his head resting on his arm, which was stretched out on the table he sat at in his rickety wooden chair.

_Yep, pretty much like Mr. Brown,_ she thought, allowing a shaky smile to come to her lips.

_I'm so ridiculous,_ she thought, glancing around. _One little noise and I freak out…_

She noticed a bottle on the ground, and figured this must have made the clunk when it had rolled out of the blacksmith's hand and off the table.

_Should I wake him up?_ she thought worriedly. _I need to buy a sword…_

_Wait, no I don't,_ she thought quickly. _I'm a freakin' pirate! I don't need to buy anything!_

Grinning, she crept out of the room, shutting the door gently, not wanting to wake the man. She strode into the sword room, eyes scanning the room for her ideal weapon.

She spotted it almost immediately. It was hanging a few spots away from the place where she had taken the first sword.

Now hanging the originally back in its place, she moved to the side, eyeing the sword intently. It was like the one she had had last time; that was why she had noticed it.

Yes, it was _very_ like her old one…in fact…

Monica's jaw dropped. _What the hell is my sword doing here!_ she thought, utterly bewildered.

She grabbed it from its hook, slid her hand into the hilt, and waved it around a bit. Yep, there was no doubt about it—this sword was definitely she same one she had had last time.

_How did it get here?_ Monica thought, flabbergasted. _I guess Jack must have taken my weapons…but how did they end up here? Did _he_ bring them here? And if this is here, what about my other stuff?_

With that, she glanced around the room, as if looking for a sign saying "Monica Connors' Weapons" like in a museum. Seeing nothing, she walked around the room slowly, her eyes searching it, her feet kicking up dust.

She searched in a chest of drawers she found on the other side of the room. In the last drawer, she found her two belts, still hooked together—even the knife she had barely used was in its sheath!

Monica stared at it, confused. _Jack must have brought them here,_ she thought, oddly numb. _But why?_

She stood slowly, picking up her belts. Thinking intently, she strapped them on, staring at the chest, but seeing nothing. She stuck her sword in the sheath, remembering the feel of it against her leg.

_And I thought getting transported to a Pirates world was weird,_ she thought wonderingly. Now I'm all freaked out about a familiar set of weapons…  
Suddenly, she heard a series of groans coming from the back room, cutting her thoughts short. Without stopping to think, she darted across the room, flung the door open, and ran out of the shop.

She jumped as the door slammed shut behind her. Luckily, no one had noticed her, so she didn't have to worry about being accused of stealing. She walked quickly away from the shop, trying to look innocent.

It was starting to get dark. She decided to head to a tavern to get a move on finding a ship.

Monica kept going in the same direction, not exactly sure where she was going, but determined to get there all the same. Then, her surroundings began to become more familiar.

She spotted the tall water pump she had used in a fight last time she was here. She smiled wistfully as she remembered spraying Troy's eyes with mud and smacking his head with her mug. She walked on, smirking to herself, reminiscing about her tendencies to hit people in the head with things.

_Let's see, there's a mug, a rock, a bottle, a stone, a melon, and a cane…_ she thought, mentally ticking the list off on her fingers. _Wow, I hardly did any fighting; I just knocked people out and pissed them off…_

Monica shook herself as she recognized the inn she and Jack had stayed in last time. Of course, that had led her to get kidnapped, but that wasn't the point.

_Maybe someone in there will have some information,_ she thought, walking up to it.

When she entered, Monica realized it hadn't changed much from when she had stayed here. It was still pretty much a dump, with its rotting furniture and dim lanterns, but Monica was relieved to see a throng of people inside, something it had been lacking last time.

She moved around the edge of the room, smiling and nodding at the patrons who stared at her. Most of them were seated at the small tables, playing cards or just drinking.

Monica took an empty spot in the corner, pulling the chair back to the wall. She plopped down and propped her legs up on the table, stretching them out and groaning. She got a few funny looks, but that was about it.

Once she was settled in, Monica strained her ears to try to pick up some of the conversation, but it was to no avail. The patrons of the inn were talking quietly. They were a good deal less rowdy than the crowd one would normally find in a tavern. Hell, there wasn't even a fight going on at the moment.

After a few minutes of nothing, Monica gave it up as a bad job. She swung her legs off the table, nearly falling out of her chair in the process. She stood up quickly, trying to keep her dignity, and strode out of the inn.

When she was outside, she noticed that night had almost completely fallen, and the streets were barely glowing from a few lampposts here and there. Monica walked down the street, disappointed.

_I've been to two places already, and I've found nothing out,_ she thought dejectedly. She started kicking a bottle as she walked, watching it gather dust and grit on its green glass surface. Suddenly, someone ran across her path, scooping up the bottle before she could give it another kick.

Monica raised her eyebrows. "Desperate much?" she muttered, looking up to take in her surroundings.

"Ah!" she said, pleased. "The ol' tavern!"

To her right was the tavern she, Jack, and Gibbs had entered, where Jack had met with the Indian men who later tried to steal the Pearl. And, of course, she had pissed off a huge man who later helped in her kidnapping.

"Funny ol' world, isn't it?" she said softly, entering the tavern.

Now here was something she was used to. There were about ten brawls going on at once, bottles flying everywhere, and much slurred yells.

Monica pushed her way to the bar, careful not to touch anyone for too long—the people here had incredible tempers, as she had learned last time.

She sat heavily on a stool, groaning slightly. No one made any protests to a fifteen-year-old girl at a bar, mingling with drunks.

Monica placed her elbows on the bar and put her face in her hands, weary from the long day. She wasn't able to relax for long, however—every other second there was someone bowling into her, slamming someone else onto the bar next to her, or trying to pull the stool out from under her to smash someone over the head with it. Once, a young man had come sliding down the length of the bar, thrown by the husband of the woman he was hitting on.

When he was out of the way, Monica set her elbows back on the bar and listened to all the complaints against spilled drinks.

"Blast! Can't a man get a drink around here?" an angry voice slurred to her left. "Christ, I'm only here two days, can't I relax?"

Monica tensed, sensing an opportunity. "Only two days?" she asked the man without pausing to think.

The man nodded, tapping the bar impatiently. "Yeah, it's only me and a few friends," he muttered, not registering who he was talking to.

"Must be a small ship," Monica commented, turning to the man. He was young, probably only somewhere around twenty-five, but rum and the sea had aged him. His light brown curly hair was flying out from the sides of a tattered blue tricorn, which looked older than he was. His jacket, also old and blue, was caked with mud and dirt.

The man nodded again, making a "fsh" noise. "It's hell," he growled. "Not enough room."

"Tell me more," Monica said, grinning. She slid him a bottle that had landed next to her on the bar. Luckily, it was still pretty full.

He seized it and took a swig before continuing. "'scalled the Rolly Joger."

"The _Jolly Roger_?" Monica asked, grinning.

"That's it!" the man exclaimed, taking another drink.

"And it's docked in this port, right?" Monica said quickly, afraid he would pass out before she could get the information she needed.

"Yeah." He belched, and Monica winced.

"Uh…so how many can sail it?" she asked, wanting to get out of the line of fire in case he blew again.

"Four, five," he grunted, swaying on his seat. "Why you wanna know, anyway…"

He toppled off the stool, completely hammered. He slumped against Monica's stool, the now empty bottle sliding out of his hand and onto the floor. Monica stared at him, then grinned.

"Just makes my job that much easier!" she said happily. "Thanks, buddy," she muttered, patting him on the head.

_Now, I just need to find Barbossa,_ she thought, scanning the tavern. _Is there any chance he's here?_

After a few minutes, she gave up and turned back to face the bar. A plate was slid in front of her.

Monica looked up, surprised. That wasn't the random slide of a drunk; someone sober had done it. And she thought she was the only sober one in there.

Barbossa was standing next to her. She jumped violently, nearly falling off the stool.

"Geez!" she yelped, gripping the bar with both hands. "Don't—sneak up on me like that!"

Barbossa chuckled and pulled the guy to her right off his stool and taking his place.

"Where are Pintel and Ragetti?" Monica asked, trying to slow her breathing.

"Oh, they're here...somewhere," Barbossa said, frowning. "Find anything out?" he asked, grabbing a bottle from his neighbor, uncorking it with his yellow teeth, spitting out the cork, and taking a swig.

"Oh, yeah," Monica said quickly. "There's a small ship here called the _Jolly Roger_ that's able to be crewed by four people. The guy's passed out already, so we should take it soon."

Barbossa nodded, looking pleased. Monica smiled to herself, happy she had been of some use.

"So where have you been?" Monica asked, tapping her hands on the bar. "Out painting the town, I'm sure…"

"Everywhere," Barbossa said, grinning. "You don't want to know."

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," Monica grumbled. She had a pretty good idea how he had spent his night.

"Did you eat anything?" Barbossa asked.

"No," Monica said, realizing how hungry she was. "Thanks," she said, embarrassed. She took the plate before it could be snatched away and dug in, ignoring the dirt on the fork and knife. She started sawing through a thick steak, her mouth watering.

"Sure didn't have anything like this last time I was here," she muttered before taking a bite.

"Yes, about that," Barbossa said, looking amused.

Monica stopped with the fork in her mouth, giving a sidelong glance to Barbossa. "Yes?" she asked after she swallowed.

"How did you get here?" he asked curiously. "I still don't understand."

"You won't," Monica assured him. "Just know that I'm here."

"Yes, that's hard _not_ to know," he muttered. Monica shot him a dark look. 

"Well, you're stuck with me, so you better get used to it," she said gruffly, shoveling mashed potatoes into her mouth.

"I have noticed you've been a bit less..._cheerful_ since we left the rest of the group," Barbossa said, watching Monica as she ate. "Is there a reason for this? Are ya not happy with me and my crew?"

"No…" Monica said slowly, thinking as she chewed. When she swallowed, she said calmly, "I was obnoxious before, I know that. But that was because my sisters were there. I had to act normal so they wouldn't freak out…but I was a little worse that normal, I think," she said, frowning. She shook her head slightly. "Anyway, they know me as being happy and cheerful and making jokes all the time, not as being serious. And I'm serious about finding Jack. I tried to act like this will be some great adventure, even thought I know it'll be different. It's stupid, but…I had to be brave for them," she finished.

Barbossa nodded. "And who are you being brave for now?" he asked softly.

Monica stared at her food. When she didn't answer, Barbossa stood up and left. Before she could protest, he was lost in the throng of drunks, no doubt looking for Pintel and Ragetti, probably starting a fight or two.

Monica blinked, then shook her head. "Freakin' Geoffrey Rush," she muttered to herself. She turned back to her food, remembering _Ned Kelly_ in which he and Orlando Bloom had starred. Chuckling to herself, she continued eating.

When she was done, the plate was immediately snatched away, which didn't surprise Monica at all. Bored, she turned around on her stool and looked around the room.

_Is Barbossa even gonna come back?_ she wondered, lazily watching a big woman punch out two men. _He's not exactly that great at giving plans. I guess I should go find him to find out what we're doing. _

She hopped off her stool and made her way through the crowd, looking around for any sign of her pirate "friends." She didn't have to travel far, though—she saw Barbossa in the middle of the room, his sword drawn, laughing and fighting with many different people at once.

Monica stared incredulously. _What the hell is he doing!_ she thought angrily. _We have to go get that ship!_

She pushed her way through the throng, edging closer to Barbossa. When she was almost to him, her foot caught the foot of someone else and she tripped, falling flat on her face.

She groaned and sat up, just in time to see Barbossa swinging his sword at her.

She rolled out of the way, too shocked to think. She glared up at Barbossa, who had obviously just now realized his mistake.

"Sorry!" he said, grabbing her arm and yanking her up. Monica was surprised to see how…happy he looked.

_Happy Barbossa?_ she thought incredulously, watching as he knocked someone over the head with the hilt of his sword. That's…kinda creepy.

"Draw your sword, Monica, and help me out here!" Barbossa said, grinning and displaying his yellow teeth.

"What!" Monica exclaimed angrily. "Why? What's the point!"

"There is none!" Barbossa replied, grinning. He grabbed Monica's sword out of its sheath and tossed it to her. She caught it, surprised, but immediately swung it around to block the sword of a drunken young man coming towards her.

Monica and Barbossa stood back to back, their swords pointed at the crowd around them. Then, the group of drunks yelled incoherently and attacked.

Once she started fighting, she soon realized, there was no end to it. The more she fought off the attackers, the more came to…well…attack.

Monica was worried that her swordplay wouldn't be up to par, since she hadn't handled one in about a month, but once she started fighting, she found that it was rather like relearning an old, familiar dance routine. She dodged, dipped, ducked, dived, and dodged. If she could dodge a sword, she could surely dodge a punch.

Or not.

When Monica turned around to block another blow coming at her from behind, she was caught off balance, and she threw out her sword hand to steady herself, leaving her wide open for attack. A fist came sailing at her face, making contact with her eye and sending her keeling backwards.

"Argh!" she yelled, more angry than hurt, more surprised than angry. Her hands flew to her face, but she quickly dropped them to fling her sword out at whoever had hit her.

She heard Barbossa laughing behind her. She turned around, embarrassed, to face him.

He only laughed harder when he saw her red eye. "Having some trouble there?" he asked mockingly.

"You could say that," Monica muttered, touching her swollen eyelid gingerly. "Now can we get out of here before something worse happens?"

Barbossa nodded, still amused, and pushed his way out of the crowd. Monica followed, grumbling to herself.

"Frickin' Barbossa, getting me into a bar fight…what does he think he's doing? How much more time is he gonna waste?" she muttered, keeping close behind him.

Finally, they reached the door of the tavern and walked out into the lively street. The dim lanterns cast odd-looking shadows across the happy-go-lucky drunks who inhabited this area. The sounds of drunken yells could be heard across the street, and, if you were lucky, you could hear a novice drinker seeing his lunch again.

Pintel and Ragetti were waiting outside the door, surrounded by sacks of food. Monica smiled weakly at them, her eye stinging as her cheeks swelled.

"What happened to you?" Ragetti asked, grinning.

"What does it look like?" Monica growled, immediately turning sour. Monica turned to Barbossa at Ragetti's surprised look.

"What now?" she said disdainfully, crossing her arms. "Are we gonna go after Jack, or spend some more time on this rock?"

Barbossa chuckled. "I suppose we can leave…do we have everything we need?"

"We got the food," Pintel said helpfully, picking up one of the sacks.

"Yes, I know that," Barbossa said impatiently, rolling his eyes. "Did you get your weapons?" he asked, turning to Monica.

She nodded silently, squinting through her swollen eye. She didn't feel like mentioning the fact that she somehow had the same weapons she had had last time.

"Good! I think we're ready," Barbossa said. "Monica's found word of a small ship in the docks. We should leave now to get it."

"Are you sure? Because I wouldn't want you to forget beating up a drunk for the fun of it or something," Monica said, managing to keep a straight face.

Barbossa ignored her. "Let's load these on the ship, then," he said, picking up two of the sacks.

"What if the guy who owns it is there?" Monica asked, picking up a sack that seemed to be full of apples.

The three pirates just looked at each other and laughed.

"Oh," Monica said. "That."

The three men each took some of the heavier sacks, leaving Monica with the smaller ones. They started walking down the street with ease, not stopping to wait. Monica huffed, straining to pick up the sacks. She was quite weak from doing nothing strenuous over the summer since she had worked on the Pearl.

She stumped after them, concentrating on not dropping the sacks. She had to stop many times, however, to get a good grip on them.

A while later, the group was finally at the docks. Monica dropped her sacks gratefully, peering around the dim area.

"Which one's our ship?" Pintel asked Barbossa after putting his sacks down on the wooden dock.

"The Rolly Joger," Monica panted, remembering the guy in the tavern. "Oops—I mean the _Jolly Roger_, she said quickly, embarrassed. "Just look for one of the smaller ones, I guess."

Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica made their way down the docks, leaving the sacks behind, thinking they would return when they found the ship, which didn't take long.

"There it is!" Monica exclaimed, pointing to a small ship docked not too far from where they were standing. She could just make out _The Jolly Roger_ painted on its hull in a curly black script.

"Think it's a pirate ship?" Pintel asked Barbossa, whose eyes were sweeping the ship intently.

"Nah, I think it's just an uncreative name," Monica said seriously.

Barbossa started towards the ship, the rest of the group following quickly. Fortunately, there was a rope ladder that fell to the docks, making it easy for anyone to climb aboard the ship.

"Ladies first," Barbossa said, sneering at Monica.

"Ragetti, you heard him," she said without missing a beat. "You're first,"

The pirates stared at her.

"Oh, come on, it's just a joke," she said lamely, smiling sheepishly. When no one replied, she shook her head.

"Geez, get a sense of humor…alright, I'll go!" she said as Barbossa gave her a menacing look.

She started up the ladder, afraid it wouldn't hold her weight. It did, however, and she climbed up the side of the small ship, looking down nervously every couple of rungs.

When she finally reached the top, she swung a leg over the side of the ship to pull herself over. Her pant leg caught on a loose nail. She struggled to get it loose, tugging at it roughly. When it finally came free, she realized how off-balance the tugging had made her, and promptly fell to the deck of the ship.

"Oof!" She sat up, furious with herself for being so clumsy.

"Everything alright up there?" she heard Barbossa's voice call.

"Yeah, I'm good," Monica called down, standing up. "You can come up now."

She turned around to see a man bowling towards her.

She gasped and moved to the side, and the man ran into the side of the ship. He drew his sword immediately, pointing it at Monica.

"Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa," she exclaimed, backing up. "Sorry, I didn't know anyone was here," she said lamely.

"Who are you?" the man snarled. Monica recognized the slur of a drunk, all too common in these parts.

"Uh…room service?" she asked, smiling sheepishly and shrugging.

The man roared and lunged at her. Grimacing, Monica drew her sword and blocked his blow, which had come too close for comfort to her stomach. She forced him back, sending him falling backwards onto the deck, more a result of the rum he had undoubtedly been drinking than her shove.

"Uh, guys, a little help up here!" Monica called down the side of the ship as the man stood up, swaying slightly. When he was steady, he made another run for Monica, who was still standing at the side of the ship. As he ran for her, she stuck out her foot into his path. This time, it was his turn to fall flat on his face.

She darted out of the way as he swung his sword at her legs as he lay on the ground. "Have a nice trip?" she asked sweetly, feeling a bit cocky. This feeling quickly left as the man rolled over suddenly, attempting to slice her feet off.

At that moment, Barbossa jumped up over the side of the ship, drawing his pistol. Without warning, he shot the man in the back.

Monica froze, shocked. He was dead. She looked up at Barbossa, who was putting up his pistol as if nothing had happened.

"You all right?" he asked nonchalantly.

Monica nodded numbly. _Why am I so shocked?_ she thought, slowly sheathing her sword. _He's a pirate; that's what they do._

_But he just killed a man,_ a voice protested in her head.

_Yeah, a man that was trying to kill you,_ the first voice said. _Just pretend it never happened._

Monica came out of her reverie as Pintel and Ragetti climbed aboard, swords drawn.

"There'll be no need for those, gents, he's already dead," Barbossa said.

The two pirates nodded and sheathed their swords. Barbossa glanced around the ship, surveying it with his eyes.

It was pretty much like the Pearl, except on a smaller scale and brown instead of black. The captain's quarters were under the helm, which was led up to by two sets of stairs on either side of the room. There was a trapdoor leading below deck. The mast was thick and tall, tangled in a web of ropes, and the white sails were down, barely moving with the gentle rocking of the boat and the breeze that picked up every now and then. 

"You two get the supplies. We'll clear the ship." Barbossa said to Pintel and Ragetti, who nodded and descended the ladder.

Barbossa started without a word. He made his way to the captain's quarters and kicked the doors opened. Monica followed cautiously, casting a last look to the man Barbossa had killed.

There was no one in the room, but there were lots of supplies, maps, and rum, which Monica could tell pleased Barbossa. When he was done searching the room, Barbossa left and made his way to the trapdoor. He lifted the door easily and descended the steps.

Monica was about to follow when she heard panting behind her.

"Oy! A little help here!" Pintel yelled.

Monica turned to see him struggling to haul a sack up the ladder. She hurried over, grabbed the sack, and set it on the deck.

"Where's the captain?" Pintel asked, still breathing hard from carrying the heavy sack of food.

"Below deck," Monica replied. "I think he's looking for more—"

They heard a muffled gunshot.

"—people," Monica finished, her face paling.

A few moments later, Barbossa came up the steps and out of the open trapdoor, hauling a body with him. He dragged it next to the other man and dropped it there unceremoniously.

Monica stared at the two bodies, beginning to feel a little bit sick. Barbossa nodded at Pintel.

"Dump these," he said, turning around and going back down below deck.

Monica moved mutely out of the way as Pintel climbed aboard and seized the first man's body by the arms. He dragged it to the port side of the ship, hefted it up, and tossed it overboard.

Monica flinched as she heard the body hit the water below. She turned away when Pintel came back for the other one.

While Pintel was busy with his job, Barbossa returned. "No one else," was all he said to Monica, who nodded grimly, trying not to think about what he had done to the two men.

Pintel and Ragetti loaded up the food. Barbossa started searching through the sacks, appearing to be looking for something. Eventually he found what he wanted—what looked like a clump of black cloth.

Monica watched as he pulled the heavy cloth from its sack and dragged it to the mast. He lowered the white sails and cut them from their hangings with his sword. Then, he started cutting holes into the black cloth, and Monica realized he was making sails—black sails, to indicate a pirate ship.

When he was done with that and Pintel and Ragetti were done loading up the supplies, Barbossa started barking orders, telling his makeshift crew of two miscreants and a fifteen-year-old girl to heave the sails as he took the helm.

Monica was busy helping Ragetti haul the sails up when she heard shouts from the docks. They looked at each other curiously and went to the side of the ship to investigate.

On the docks was the man Monica had gotten drunk and another man she didn't recognize, probably the last member of the small crew. They were yelling drunkenly, waving their arms as if sure this would get the pirates off their ship.

Barbossa noticed the two men, strode to the side of the ship, and opened fire. The two men followed suit, their bullets whizzing in random directions due to their impaired judgment.

Monica ducked as the men shot at them. Next to her, she heard a yelp as Ragetti jumped.

"Me eye!" he howled, his hands covering his false one. When he moved them away, Monica saw that a bullet had pierced it, and was lodged in there pretty tight.

Horrified, Monica gasped. Ragetti popped his fake eye out of the socket, ducked and crouched next to Monica, and tried to pull the bullet out of it. When his fingers wouldn't do the job, he grasped the bullet with his teeth and yanked it out.

Monica heard screams from the two men and stood up cautiously. They had wasted their bullets, hitting nothing but Ragetti's eye, and now they were unarmed. Barbossa took advantage of this and shot one man, then the other.

Suddenly, a strong wind picked up.

"You idiots, get the sails up!" Barbossa yelled.

Monica and Ragetti raced to the mast to heave the ropes that hauled up the sails. They heard more yelling below, and Monica guessed someone had noticed the pirates who had commandeered the small ship and killed its crew.

When the black sails were up, the _Jolly Roger_ began to slowly move out of the docks and into the open ocean. Monica leaned against the mast, panting from the effort of heaving the sails and her shock at what Barbossa had just done. No matter how much time she spent around him, she knew she would never get used to his killing people.

Monica moved to the side of the ship as it sailed, enjoying the feel of the wind on her face. It teased her hair as she rested her arms on the side of the ship and breathed deeply. Then, a rather strong burst of wind hit her, throwing her loose hair into her face. She spluttered, trying to get the hair out of her eyes and mouth, furious that her peaceful moment had been screwed up.

"Having trouble?" Barbossa asked.

Monica nearly choked on her own hair. She pulled it out of her face and turned to face him, her face turning red.

Barbossa chuckled and stood next to her, looking out to the sea.

"Shouldn't you be captaining or something?" Monica grumbled. She raised a hand to move her hair out of her face again, as the wind had blown it another time. As she brushed it out of the way, she accidentally poked the eye that had been punched. She jumped and swore softly.

"Well, I would, but I don't know where I'm going," Barbossa said smoothly, acting as if he hadn't noticed her frustration.

"What!" Monica exclaimed, her temper getting the best of her. "You're supposed to help find Jack! How the hell can you not know where you're going!" she yelled furiously.

Barbossa shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't _have_ to find Jack," he said calmly. "Perhaps I'll just take advantage of being alive again and forget about this whole ordeal."

"You wouldn't be alive for long, buddy," Monica growled, placing a hand on the hilt of her sword.

Barbossa smiled at her, amused. "For someone so strange, you do have a lot of spirit," he said, watching Monica steadily as she glared at him.

"Yeah, well, I just want to find him, that's all," she muttered, turning away.

"Mm-hmm." Barbossa looked out to sea again, casting Monica a sidelong glance. "And if you don't?"

"That won't happen," Monica said fiercely. "It can't."

Barbossa raised his eyebrows. "What makes you so sure?"

Monica smirked at him. "Because you want to find Jack as much as I do," she said evenly. "But not for the same reasons…you only want the Pearl."

Barbossa smiled to himself. "Exactly," he said softly. "And neither you nor Jack will stand in my way."

"So why don't you kill me now?" Monica asked, managing to sound braver than she felt. She felt her insides curl at the thought of being murdered by Barbossa before she got to see Jack again.

"I need you to help crew the ship," Barbossa said calmly. "But if you get in my way to the Pearl, have no doubt, I will kill you."

And with that, he turned and left.

Monica stared at the moon's reflection in the sea. "Well, _that_ was interesting!" she muttered.


	6. Chapter 6

As Monica hurried up the path to join Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti, Alison turned back to the group, her heart sinking.

_It's really happening,_ she thought dazedly. _My youngest sister just ran off with three pirates...oh, God..._

Before she could start freaking out, however, Michelle spoke up.

"So, now what?" she asked, taking a deep breath.

"Supplies," Gibbs said immediately, noticing the discomfort of the two sisters.

"Right," Michelle said softly. "So, um...do we have any money?"

"A little," Elizabeth answered, but Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton just smirked at each other.

"Alright, then let's go," Will said.

The group made its way up the path, with Gibbs, Cotton and Marty in the lead, followed by Will and Michelle, with Alison and Elizabeth trailing behind.

Elizabeth fell into step next to Alison.

"Are you all right?" she asked tentatively, looking closely at the young woman's face, which was facing the ground.

Alison nodded mutely, but then looked up, looking almost confused. "I'm just...worried, I guess," she admitted with a little laugh.

Elizabeth gave her a sympathetic smile. "She'll be alright," she said somewhat awkwardly, seeing as she didn't know much about the girl who had just followed the pirates up the path. "After all, she survived nearly a month with Jack before."

Elizabeth stopped suddenly after mentioning Jack. Alison looked up at her and saw the guilty look on her face.

She wondered what to say. It wasn't like she could console Elizabeth with "It's okay, there's nothing you could have done," because, of course, she had chained him to the mast of the Pearl. Finally, she decided to speak on impulse.

"Look, I know what you did to him," she said in a low voice.

Elizabeth stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening, waiting for Alison to continue speaking.

"And I know you had a good reason for it," Alison continued, stopping too. "You would have kept being chased; you had to get away. I understand, you had to make a choice."

Elizabeth glanced at Alison, her eyes brimming with tears. "Then why do I feel so guilty about it?" she whispered.

"I don't know, why do you?" Alison asked softly.

Elizabeth was spared answering by Gibbs calling back to them, telling them to keep up.

Will cast Elizabeth a dark look as she and Alison started walking again, still trailing back a ways. Noticing this, Michelle tried to distract him.

"So, you come here often?" she asked jokingly, hoping he would forget about Elizabeth.

Will allowed a tight smile to come to his lips. "More often than I'd like," he admitted, looking around.

Michelle nodded, following his gaze. "Hopefully you won't get slapped this time," she said, smiling mischievously up at him.

Will raised his eyebrows briefly. "Hopefully," he repeated. Then he seemed to be thinking about something. "Michelle, I'm afraid I just don't understand how you got here," he said slowly, as if he was choosing his words carefully. "And you know all about my life...it's just--"

"Weird, I know," Michelle sighed. "I'm sorry I can't explain it better. I think we just need to accept the fact that it happened and that we're here and doing all that we can to help."

Will nodded, still looking thoughtful. "Your sister was certainly eager to help find Jack," he remarked, stepping to the side to avoid a drunken beggar.

"Yes, she was," Michelle said, making room for Will to walk. "She misses him immensely."

"Really?" Will said, sounding as if he found this hard to believe.

"I know, it's strange to hear, isn't it?" Michelle said, smiling. "But she was moping around without him...it wasn't like her at all..."

"She seemed pretty cheerful to me," Will said.

"Yes, I think she was happy to be back," Michelle said, smiling wistfully at the memory of how her younger sister's eyes had shone when they had realized where they had landed.

"You miss her already," Will said. It wasn't a question.

Michelle shrugged and nodded. "It'll be strange without her around...if it isn't already strange enough," she said. "But I can't help but worry..."

Will remained silent. Michelle guessed that he was unsure of what to say. She was grateful, in a way, that he didn't try to console her--how could anyone know if Monica would be alright?

Michelle tucked her hair behind her ear and caught a glimpse of her lifeline. She felt a sickening sense of dread, remembering what Tia Dalma had told her. She pushed the thought out of her mind as the group entered the square of Tortuga.

Because it was only late afternoon, the place wasn't as rowdy as it had been in the movies. Oh, it was crowded, alright, with drunks filling the streets and brawls scattered about, but the people here weren't _as_ drunk as usual.

When Alison and Elizabeth had caught up with the rest of the group, Gibbs turned around to shout out orders.

"Right," he said, surveying the group. "Marty, Cotton and I will handle food. Will, do you have weapons?"

"Yes, but I think Alison and Michelle need some," Will said.

"No, I've already got some," Alison said. "Well, actually, they're from the ship..."

"No matter," Gibbs said. "So that leaves you, missy?" he said, looking at Michelle, who nodded.

"I'll take her," Will volunteered, smiling down at Michelle. Michelle felt her face go red.

"Then we're coming with you," Elizabeth said suddenly, looking at Gibbs. She took Alison's arm and led her next to the pirate, careful not to look at Will, whose jaw was clenched.

Gibbs obviously didn't notice anything. "Fine. Let's go," he said, leading the group down the street to the left.

Michelle and Will stood watching them for a minute, Will's eyes on Elizabeth and Michelle's on Alison. Without speaking, Will turned and led the way down the other side of the street.

"Um, do you know where you're going?" Michelle asked tentatively.

"Not really," Will said, giving her an apologetic smile. "Ah, well...we're bound to come across a blacksmith's shop soon, aren't we?"

"Well, you're the expert, you've been here twice," Michelle said, grinning up at him.

They walked on, careful not to get involved in any drunken fights. Once Will had to draw his sword to threaten a dirty old man out of hitting on Michelle.

Finally, the two came to a blacksmith's shop. They entered quickly, grateful to get away from the action in the streets.

As they entered, a man came from a door in the back, yawning and scratching his head. When he saw Will and Michelle, he eyed them suspiciously.

"How long have you been here?" he growled, peering at them with groggy eyes.

"Er, we just got here," Will answered uncertainly.

"Eh," the man muttered, yawning again. "Could've sworn I heard someone in here...came into my room, too...anyway, what can I do ya for?"

Ten minutes later, Will and Michelle left the shop, Michelle looking pleased with her selection of a long, thing sword with a sturdy hilt.

"Excellent," she whispered, sliding the sword into its sheath, where it hung on her new belt. "Thanks, mate!"

"Don't mention it," Will answered, smiling. "Let's just hope you won't have to use it soon."

Alison stared around at the drunks running around the streets, amazed at their energy.

"How are they able to stand steadily?" she asked dubiously, watching a laughing man chase a woman down an alleyway.

"I have no idea," Elizabeth replied, following the same scene with her eyes. "It seems like they'd be too drunk to stand, much less run around all night."

They had gotten sacks and barrels of food and were heading back to the docks. Alison was grateful that they were close; she and Elizabeth were hauling a heavy barrel down the path, and it was no easy task.

When they finally reached the docks, the girls dropped the barrel happily, exhausted. Alison wiped the sweat off her forehead and looked around.

Night had fallen when they had been shopping. Back at the square, lights gleamed cheerily, accompanying the sounds of drunken laughter and the occasional gunshot. At the docks, lanterns hanging from various ships swayed gently with the soft waves rocking the boats.

Gibbs left to find the captain of the ship they had arrived on. When he was gone, Alison noticed Elizabeth peering down the trail, as if looking for something...or someone.

Alison walked up and stood next to her, wondering what she was staring at. When Elizabeth noticed her, she looked away quickly.

"Are you looking for Will?" Alison asked softly.

Elizabeth stared at her, then nodded, looking down at her hands. Alison didn't know what to say.

"I miss him," Elizabeth blurted. "I know it sounds stupid, but I just want him to look at me again...to talk to me...to hold me..."

She stopped abruptly, as if afraid of revealing her feelings to this woman she barely knew. But she sniffled a bit and looked away, making Alison's head snap towards hers.

"Oh, don't cry, it's--" Alison began, but she was interrupted by Gibbs returning with the ship's captain.

"Sorry it took so long...he was busy," Gibbs said, smirking at Cotton and Marty. Alison looked up to see the captain following Gibbs, looking disgruntled and pulling on his jacket. She could have sworn she saw Giselle slinking out of the shadows behind him, hurrying away.

With the help of the ship's crew, Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Elizabeth, and Alison loaded up the supplies they had bought, with Elizabeth and Alison glancing at the path hopefully for signs of Will and Michelle.

They were almost loaded when they arrived, talking and laughing as if they were old friends. Alison glanced at Elizabeth, who had gone pale. She seemed numbly shocked when she saw the two of them walking together. As if in a trance, she slowly took the sack Cotton was hauling up to her, dropped it, and disappeared below deck.

Will and Michelle helped load up the remaining sacks and barrels and climbed aboard.

"Where's Elizabeth?" Will asked, looking around curiously.

"She went below deck," Alison answered, looking pointedly at Michelle. "I think she said she was tired..."

Michelle noticed the look her sister was giving her and frowned slightly.

"So am I," she said slowly, glancing at Alison quizzically. "I'm going to bed, if no one minds."

"Yeah, me too," Alison added quickly, taking Michelle's arm and herding her below deck.

Alison steered her sister down the stairs and away from the cabins, where she thought she heard Elizabeth crying. Michelle must have heard it, too, because she stopped in her tracks.

"Is that--" she began wonderingly, her eyes widening slightly.

Alison nodded grimly. "It's what I wanted to talk to you about." She led Michelle into the armory room, careful not to trip on any rope or buckets on the ground.

"Why is she crying?" Michelle asked when they entered the room.

"You," Alison answered peevishly. "She saw you and Will coming down the path, getting all chummy--"

"What?" Michelle exclaimed incredulously. "_Chummy?_ Is it a crime if I make a new friend?" she asked, but she knew what Alison meant.

Alison rolled her eyes. "Look, she's depressed about Will, and then when she saw him having a good time with you, she just--" Alison stopped, searching for words. When she could find none, she looked up at Michelle, who had remained silent.

She was looking at the floor, frowning slightly, as if considering what to say. Then, after a deep breath, she said, "That's not what we were doing..." She shook her head slightly. "No. We're just friends. We aren't..." It was her turn to be at a loss for words.

"Oh, right, and I'm back at home, having a very weird but very realistic dream," Alison snapped.

Michelle glared up at her. "There's no need to lose your temper!" she said, mollified. "Really, you're overreacting--"

"Overreacting! I am _not_ overreacting!" Alison yelled furiously. "I've been sucked into a movie, and everyone's just all hunky-dory about it! 'Oh, let's go on an adventure to save fictional characters! Who cares if none of this is real? We'll just have a good time, make a few friends, flirt with the celebrities--'"

"Stop it!" Michelle shouted angrily. "Would you just SHUT UP!"

Alison did. She was stunned at this outburst from her usually quiet, thoughtful sister.

"You've been bitching ever since we got here!" Michelle continued. "Do you really think complaining about it will change any of this? Well, it won't! There's nothing we can do about it, so just shut the hell up and try to help out around here!"

Alison sneered at her younger sister. "Right. I'm going to go try to cheer Elizabeth up. Why don't you go _help out_ Will?"

And with that, she turned and left for the quarters, leaving Michelle standing there, fuming.

After taking a moment to calm down, Michelle made her way up to the deck, enjoying the feeling of the warm breeze on her skin. She realized that the captain had already set sail and that Tortuga was now a group of lights in the distance. She heard gunshots and yelling from the docks, but tuned them out, figuring it was just a few drunks fighting.

But it wasn't--it was her younger sister and three pirates commandeering a ship.

Alison stormed to the quarters, furious with Michelle. How could she just go along with this? This was a serious matter! They had to get home, not to Port Royal!

As she passed Elizabeth's door, she stopped, hearing her muffled crying. Hesitating, she held a fierce battle in her mind, wondering whether to go in there or not.

She had almost decided to go in there when she remembered Michelle's words--_try to help out around here_.

On the one hand, she didn't want anything to do with what Michelle had said, but on the other, Elizabeth needed a friend.

_But she's not even real!_ a voice in her head protested.

_Maybe Michelle was right, and you just need to go with the flow,_ another voice reasoned with her. _Besides, even if Elizabeth isn't real, she's still upset..._

Alison pushed the thoughts from her mind and knocked on the door tentatively.

"Elizabeth?" she called softly.

She heard the crying subside, only to be replaced with a series of sniffles.

"Come in," she heard Elizabeth say wearily.

Alison opened the door to see Elizabeth sitting on her bed, her hat forward on her head, covering most of her face. She could see the wet spots on her sleeves where she had been drying her eyes.

"Hey," Alison said softly, sitting next to Elizabeth on the bed.

Elizabeth smiled weakly from under her hat. "Hello," she mumbled, wiping her nose on her sleeve.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Alison asked, not even needing to ask what "it" was.

Elizabeth hesitated, then nodded. She removed the hat from her head, revealing puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks. She took a deep breath and swallowed, then managed to fix a smile to her lips. "I'm being ridiculous, aren't I?" she asked, smiling ruefully.

"No, you're not," Alison insisted. "There's nothing wrong with being upset."

Elizabeth remained silent. Alison let her mull things over in her head, with thoughts of her own flying around.

_First she was upset about Jack, and now she's upset about Will,_ she thought, playing with the blanket on the bed. _Well, it's understandable, she's been through a lot..._

Elizabeth sniffled again. "Look at me, I'm crying my eyes out over a boy when you're so far from home and you've been separated from your sister..."

"No, no, it's alright," Alison said quickly.

Elizabeth shook her head. "I heard you yelling outside," she admitted hesitantly. "I just feel...like this whole thing is tearing your family apart."

"And it's torn up you and Will," Alison said in a low voice.

Elizabeth nodded. Her bottom lip quivered, and Alison knew she was about to burst into tears again.

"Look, I know Michelle isn't, like, trying to steal him from you or anything," she said quickly. "She just...needs a friend, I guess."

As she said this, she realized how it must sound. "And she chose Will over me," she said slowly.

"And why is that?" Elizabeth asked with a strained voice. Alison thought she must be trying not to sound bitter.

"I think...Will was the only one to show her kindness," Alison said thoughtfully. "Monica was too excited to be here, and I...well, I definitely wasn't," she said with a weak laugh.

Elizabeth smiled and fiddled with her hat, which she had placed in her lap. "And you...do you need a friend, too?" she asked, glancing up at Alison with a slightly amused smile.

Alison sighed theatrically. "I don't know...I think I can get along by myself," she said dramatically, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smirking.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure," she said, grinning. "But, really...will you be my friend? I'm having a rough couple of weeks...no, make that a rough year."

"Of course," Alison said, smiling. "I think we both could use a friend...we're both having some rough patches here."

The next day, Alison decided to try to make up with Michelle, knowing it wouldn't help much to be enemies with your own sister--especially when you're in a world you don't know too much about.

She found her easily enough, wandering around the deck, her wispy brown hair streaming out behind her, shining in the sun. Alison was always jealous of her hair--her own hair was much too thick, in her opinion.

_But that's beside the point,_ she thought as she made her way towards her younger sister. _Besides, Elizabeth likes my hair!_

Alison and Elizabeth had spent most of the night talking, about everything from Alison's hair to Elizabeth's relationship with Will. And now Alison had to honor that relationship.

She walked behind Michelle, trying to think of what to say.

_Oh, screw it,_ she thought, and dove right in.

"Michelle, we need to talk," she said loudly.

Michelle jumped and turned around in surprise. Her face clouded over when she realized who was standing behind her, and she made to walk away.

"No, wait," Alison said. Michelle exhaled furiously, but stayed to talk.

"Elizabeth's upset that you've been spending too much time with Will," Alison said quickly.

Michelle gave her a condescending look. "Oh, now you're taking her side? You're taking a fictional character's side over mine, your own sister's?"

Alison grit her teeth, wondering if this would be worth it. Her hot temper was telling her to punch her, but her mind was telling her to finish.

"Look, all I'm trying to say is--" Alison began.

Michelle sighed. "Just shut up," she said wearily, shaking her head.

Alison's temper kicked her mind's ass. "That's it, you little--" she began threateningly.

"No, I was going to agree with you!" Michelle said quickly, raising her hands in defense. "I know how Elizabeth feels about that--hell, it's just like being in high school again," she chuckled. "But seriously. I'm sorry. And please, can you let her know that we're _just friends_?" she asked hopefully. "Really. I don't want her to be upset."

Alison relaxed. "Fine," she said gruffly, not wanting to show how grateful she was that Michelle hadn't made a big deal out of everything. Besides, that was her job.

"Fine," Michelle repeated, smiling. "Now, have you seen Will?"

Alison gave her a warning look.

Michelle laughed. "I'm kidding! Now will you go make sure she's not about to murder me?"

Alison's face finally broke into a smile and she went below deck without another word.

Michelle sighed, relieved. The whole incident had been bothering her all night. She hated having to be the "other girl", the person she had always hated in high school.

_Hey, who says school isn't good for anything?_ she thought, crossing the deck and staring out to sea.

Indeed, her years in high school had given her intuitive senses about other people's feelings. 

_Which is a trait Alison could do well with,_ Michelle thought. She wasn't being mean, it was the truth--even Alison agreed that she was insensitive sometimes.

_But it's funny...now she's going out of her way to make sure Elizabeth is happy,_ Michelle thought. _Maybe this adventure will come to some good after all..._

But then she remembered her lifeline and Tia Dalma's prediction. She felt the sick feeling in her stomach again--was it dread? Fear?

_Excitement?_ she thought. _It might be..._

Michelle thought that that must be part of it--after all, she was going to come back from death or something, wasn't she?

"Back from the grave," she muttered.

"What are you talking about?" she heard Will ask curiously.

Michelle jumped and turned around for the second time in five minutes.

"You scared me!" she said, turning to face Will.

"Sorry," he said, smiling. "I didn't realize you were so deep in thought."

"Yeah, I was," Michelle muttered, rubbing the palm of her hand self-consciously. "So...what's new?"

"You need to learn how to fight," Will said matter-of-factly. "Come on, get your things and meet me out here."

"Okay," Michelle said, surprised. "Excellent!"

She hurried below deck to her quarters, where she had kept her belt. As she passed Elizabeth's door, she heard her and Alison chatting away happily.

Michelle smiled and kept walking. She thought it best that they strengthened their friendship.

A few moments later, she was back above deck, standing in front of Will, sword drawn.

"Have you ever used a sword before?" Will asked, drawing his own sword.

"No," Michelle said, laughing. "We don't have much use for swords in the 21st century."

"That must be strange," Will said, frowning.

Michelle laughed at his confused expression. She also couldn't help but noticed how nice he looked in the bright sunlight, his dark hair waving in the slight breeze...

Michelle blinked as Will continued talking.

"Okay, then, I just want you to attack me, and we'll go from there..."

Hours later, Will and Michelle were both panting from all the swordplay. Will sat down heavily on a nearby barrel, and Michelle leaned against it, breathing heavily.

"You're very good at this," Will remarked, sheathing his sword.

"Thanks, you too," Michelle replied, panting. "Got another round in you?"

Will chuckled and stood up. "Maybe one more," he said, groaning a bit as he moved his sore muscles. "But then I need lunch."

The pair took their respective places across from each other on the deck. By now, part of the crew had taken a break for lunch, and they were looking on with interest.

"Ladies first," Will said, grinning.

Michelle grinned too, then lunged.

They fought, with half the crew watching and cheering them on. Most of them were rooting for Will, but a few of them were yelling for the strange-talking young woman he was fighting off.

Finally, after a few moments of the fight getting nowhere, Will slipped. Michelle took the opportunity to grab his sword, swing it around, knock him to his knees, and place the weapon along with her own at his neck, as if they were a pair of giant scissors.

Will looked surprised, and slightly embarrassed as the crew cheered, whooped, and whistled. "Where did you learn a move like that?" he asked wonderingly, panting. "I didn't teach you that."

"I saw it in a movie once," Michelle grinned, removing the swords and handing him his.

Will stood up and took it, chuckling. "There's no doubt about it, you're a natural swordsman," he said, wiping his forehead. "I mean, swordswoman," he said awkwardly as Michelle laughed.

Two days later, the ship reached Port Royal. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Will, Elizabeth, Alison, and Michelle got off at the docks, thanking the captain and his crew profusely.

"Will we be needing him again?" Will asked Gibbs.

"I don't know, but we've put him through more than enough trouble already," Gibbs replied. "We'll find another captain to harass."

Alison glanced at Elizabeth, who was looking around, obviously remembering what had happened the last time she had been here. Will was gazing about, too, his face darkening as his eyes fell upon Cutler Beckett's residence.

"That's where we're headed," he said to Michelle, nodding toward the place. "To get the heart--"

"And my father," Elizabeth said, staring up at the building.

Although it had been made clear that Michelle wasn't trying to steal Will away from Elizabeth, the couple hadn't made up yet. Alison and Michelle had had many discussions on whether to intervene or not, but had decided not to, figuring the couple should work things out on their own. Now, however, as they stil weren't speaking, the two sisters were having second thoughts.

"Well, I've no quarrel with this Beckett fellow, but I'm comin' with ya," Gibbs said to Will.

"Aye...he's bound to have something valuable in there," Marty said, smirking.

"Rawk! Wind in the sails! Wind in the sails!" Cotton's parrot said loudly.

Without further ado, the group made their way to the place, feeling determined, scared, angry, or just excited.

As they passed through the town, Will and Elizabeth looked wistfully about, no doubt remembering simpler times. But memories can never replace reality, as the Connors sisters had learned long ago.

Finally, they reached the building. There were a few guards here in there, but nothing too heavy.

"Do you think we can get by them without having to fight?" Michelle asked nervously.

"I doubt it. And even if we did, we'd just have to face them on the way out," Will said.

"But there's no telling how many of them are in there!" Alison exclaimed.

"Well, that's the toss-up, missy," Gibbs said. "But we've faced a kraken, so I think we can get through some guards."

"But what about us?" Michelle asked fearfully.

"Well...good luck," Gibbs said.

And he charged the guards.

Marty and Cotton followed close behind. Will shrugged and followed. Elizabeth went soon after, clearly worried about Will. This left Alison and Michelle staring at each other.

"Well, see you on the other side," Alison said, grinning, and she strode up to the small battle, cocking her pistols.

"This is insane!" Michelle muttered. But she hurried up, too.

It didn't take long for the guards to be defeated. Our heroes hurried up the stairs, trying to keep quiet so they wouldn't have to face more guards.

But they had to. Each time it wasn't much of a threat, though, as the odd group took the redcoats by surprise. Also, none of them were crappy fighters, like the guards were.

They made it to Beckett's office. Elizabeth stormed in furiously. She hadn't seen her father throughout the place, and she was beginning to get worried.

Beckett looked up from his desk, looking only slightly surprised. It seemed he had heard the commotion going through his building and hadn't been worrying about it. Instead, he was poring over a map that was spread out over his desk. On top of the map sat a small bag that seemed to be...beating.

"Someone guard the door," Elizabeth barked. Alison stopped at the door, her eyes fixed on the bag.

_Is that..._ she thought, peering closely at it. _No, it can't be!_

But it was. Will seized the bag, opening it and looking inside. It was obviously the heart of Davy Jones, for he tucked the bag inside his jacket.

"Where's my father?" Elizabeth snarled, pointing her sword at Beckett, who looked at the point with disdain.

"Miss Swann, what has happened to you?" he asked, gazing up at her face. "Clearly you've had some trauma--"

"The only trauma I've had is having to deal with you more than I'd like, now _where_ is my father?" Elizabeth in a low, dangerous voice, bringing the point of the sword closer to Beckett. He swallowed, his eyes crossing slightly in an attempt to keep his eyes on the weapon, but he didn't answer.

"Do you have any idea what I've been through, what I've done to get here, and how I've--"

There was a loud gunshot. Everyone's heads whipped around to Alison, who was standing at the doorway, a smoking pistol in her hand.

"Sorry," she said, eyebrows raised. "That guy with the knife was outside.

"No way! That creepy guy that killed that other guy?" Michelle said with a little laugh.

"Yeah, I clipped his shoulder, come look!" Alison said, grinning.

As Michelle moved toward the door, there was a commotion behind her. She whirled around to see Beckett pulling a pistol from under his desk, cocking it, and pointing it at Elizabeth.

Michelle felt a hand n her shoulder pushing her down. She dropped to the floor, nearly losing her balance.

There was a gunshot. Michelle gasped.

_She's been shot!_ she thought, horrified.

She looked up, expecting to see Elizabeth bleeding to death, but instead she saw Beckett staring down at a bloody hole in his arm.

He dropped the pistol and collapsed into his chair. The hand on Michelle's shoulder was lifted, and she looked around to see Alison standing above her, her other gun smoking. She had pushed her sister out of the way to get a clear shot at Beckett, who had been about to shoot Elizabeth.

Everyone stared at the Connors sisters, intruders to their world, who had helped them fight. After a moment, Elizabeth turned back to Beckett, placing her hands on his desk and leaning over him.

"Where is my father?" she asked, glaring down at him.

Beckett realized that he was beaten. "Downstairs in the prison," he said dejectedly.

Elizabeth surveyed his face, trying to determine if he was lying, Michelle guessed, but finally turned and left the room. The rest of the group followed, unsure of what to do with the bleeding Beckett. Alison was last to leave. She looked up at Beckett, somewhat guilty at what she had done--she had never shot anyone before today.

"Nice shot," Beckett said, opening one of the drawers on his desk, pulling out a handkerchief, and pressing it gently against his wound. 

"Not really," Alison said darkly. "I was aiming for your heart."

And she left, leaving Beckett to bleed in his office.

She stepped over the man she had shot earlier, hurrying to catch up with the rest of the group. She joined the back of the group without anyone noticing where she had gone.

With Elizabeth leading the way, they found a flight of stairs and hurried down it. Luckily, there were no guards--they must have faced them all when going up to meet Beckett.

Governor Weatherby Swann was in a large, shadowy cell at the end of the hall that was the prison. Elizabeth ran down to greet him, kneeling at the bars to talk to him.

"Father!" she said, gripping the bars tightly with her hands. Michelle could just make out the man's body, lying in the shadows, as if he were asleep...or...

He didn't move.

"Father?" Elizabeth said softly, her voice wavering.

The governor stirred, then opened his eyes. Elizabeth let out a gasp of relief.

"Elizabeth!" Weatherby said, looking shocked. He sat up, revealing a balding head and his once-clean clothes, which had been sullied by several nights in the cell. "What are you--and who--"

"These are my friends, Father," Elizabeth said. "They've helped me rescue you."

Weatherby crawled toward the bars, closer to his daughter. "Oh, I thought you were..." He kissed Elizabeth on the forehead, looking relieved beyond words.

As the two of them continued talking in low voices, clearly exchanging loving words only a father and daughter can share, Michelle felt her throat tighten. She turned away, trying hard not to think of the last time her own father had kissed her.

Alison remained at the back of the hall, looking on dully.

_I just left two men to die_, she thought numbly. _I don't...I can't believe this..._

Her tired eyes scanned the hall, passing over the empty cells. But wait...that one wasn't empty...

She moved closer to the cell, peering into it closely. When she saw who was in it, she gasped.

"Norrington?" she said wonderingly.

The prisoner shifted slightly from his sitting position against the wall.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked sullenly.

"Alison Connors," Alison replied, her jaw dropping slightly.

"Never heard of you."

"You wouldn't; I'm not exactly from around here," Alison replied, crouching down next to the cell. "What are you doing in there?"

"What are _you_ doing, asking about me?" Norrington asked, snorting. "What do _you_ care?"

"I care," Alison said defensively.

"Oh, really? You won't just...oh, I don't know, accept a marriage proposal only to turn it down a week later?" Norrington muttered, sitting up fully now.

"She only did that to save Will," Alison said softly.

She saw his head turn in the dim light. "What would _you_ know about that?" he asked.

"I know a lot about you," Alison replied, still fazed about talking to this man. She had had a huge crush on Norrington in _Dead Man's Chest_, and now, here he was, sitting right in front of her!

"If you knew a lot about me, you'd know why I was in here," Norrington said darkly.

"Well, that's one thing I _don't_ know," Alison said, miffed. "So why don't you tell me why you're in here?"

"Why don't you leave me the hell alone?" Norrington replied.

Alison was taken aback. "Ex_cuse_ me?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

Norrington only chuckled. "What're you gonna do, attack me through the bars?" he asked, snorting.

"I might," Alison said dangerously, raising her pistols and pointing them through the bars.

Norrington looked up at the weapons dully, then looked back straight ahead of him. "Fine. Do it. I'm ready to go," he said in a monotone voice.

"What are you doing?"

Alison turned to see Michelle walking towards her.

"This woman was about to shoot me!" Norrington called out to Michelle.

Alison glared at him and stood up, putting her pistols back into her belt. Michelle stared at her, then into the cell. Her eyes widened.

"What is _he_ doing in here?" she asked incredulously.

"I don't know, he wouldn't tell me," Alison said. "He's being a little--"

"Watch it," Michelle said warningly. She knelt next to the cells, peering in at the man. "Why are you in here?" she asked softly.

"Beckett," was all that he said.

"You little--!" Alison began. "Why wouldn't you tell _me_?"

"Well, she asked nicely!" Norrington replied peevishly, gesturing towards Michelle.

"So did I, the first time!"

"Oh," Norrington said. "I guess I didn't notice."

"How could you not notice!" Alison asked, her temper rising dangerously to the surface.

"Because I was dazed at how beautiful you are," Norrington replied.

No one said anything. Then Norrington burst out into a laugh.

"Oh, come on, you didn't think I was serious, did you?" he sneered.

Alison furiously reached for her pistols, but Michelle laid a placating hand on her arm.

"Calm down," she said, slightly amused. "I'll deal with him. Go help everyone else look for the keys to the cells.

Alison gave Norrington one last furious look before storming off. Michelle turned back to the man in the cell as his chuckles faded.

"Hotheaded, isn't she?" he said, watching her as she left.

"You have no idea," Michelle muttered. "So why did Beckett lock you up?"

Norrington didn't answer right away. Then, "She knew I was kidding, right? About her _not_ being beautiful?"

Michelle arched an eyebrow. "You think she's beautiful?" she asked dubiously. It wasn't that she thought her sister wasn't pretty, it was just a little unexpected coming from James Norrington.

"I might," he replied vaguely, gazing down the hall. "Anyway, did you ask something?"

"Yes, why did Beckett lock you up?" Michelle asked, rolling her eyes.

"Ah. _That_." Norrington sighed. "He took the heart and threw me down here. Apparently he didn't want me to interfere." He shook his head slightly. "So much for getting my job back," he said ruefully.

"He didn't want you to interfere?" Michelle repeated.

"Yes. As if I'd get in the way! Like I'd want Sparrow or that filthy Turner to have it..."

Michelle cleared her throat slightly. "Well, it's been nice talking to you, but I really should be--"

There was a clunk and a loud creaking of hinges. Michelle looked around to see Gibbs hauling the door to Weatherby's cell open. Elizabeth rushed into her father's arms, looking the happiest Michelle had ever seen her.

"Oh, who else is at this little party?" Norrington asked, sounding mildly interesting.

"Uh...well..." Michelle wondered what to tell him.

"Michelle!"

She turned once again to see Will coming towards her.

"What are you--" his eyes fell upon Norrington.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"What is _he_ doing here?" Norrington whined.

"Why is he here?" Will muttered to Michelle.

"Look, guys, it's a long story--"

Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Elizabeth, Weatherby, and Alison came up. Michelle closed her eyes and looked up, shaking her head as if asking, "Why me?"

Norrington stared at the group that had assembled in front of him. The group stared back.

"Are you going to get me out of here or what?" Norrington asked abruptly.

Now the group had a new member: a cynical ex-commodore. It left the building, thankfully not running into any more guards, and made its way to the docks.

Norrington fell into step with Alison. "So, how do you know Miss Swann and...Mr. Turner?" he asked, saying the latter name with obvious distaste.

"Didn't you already hear? Long story," Alison answered shortly.

Norrington scoffed. "Oh, come on. I've been in prison for weeks; can't you tell me a story?" he asked playfully.

Alison rolled her eyes, smiling in spite of the grudge she was determined to hold against this man for his difficulty in the prison.

"Forget it. You wouldn't believe me if I told you," Alison said, shaking her head.

"Right, of course. I wouldn't tell you my story, so you won't tell me yours," Norrington said, casting her a sidelong glance.

"Okay. Okay, you want the truth?" Alison asked, smirking. "I got here when my sisters and I were sucked through a dryer. Don't ask what that is; we're from the future. That's why I talk funny. The place I come from doesn't even exist yet. That eighteen-year-old walking next to Will is my sister Michelle. My other sister, Monica, she's fifteen, went off with three other pirates to go find Jack Sparrow."

Norrington stared at her. "You're right, I don't believe you," he said calmly.

"Why am I not surprised?" Alison muttered.

"Wait, what happened to Sparrow?" Norrington asked curiously. "What do you mean, to go find him?"

Alison raised her eyebrows. "Oh, now you want to hear about it? I thought you didn't believe it," she said mischievously.

"Who says I have to believe in a story to hear it?" Norrington asked, grinning.

Alison smiled. "True. Well, Jack died," she said bluntly, ignoring Norrington's shocked look. "Yeah, I know, surprising, isn't it?"

"No, it's just that I wanted to kill him so badly," Norrington remarked.

"Charming," Alison said dryly.

"I know," Norrington said, managing to keep a straight face. "Though not as charming as you are, I'm sure."

"Of course not!" Alison exclaimed. "Of course, I did just shoot two men--"

Norrington looked impressed. "Really? Did you kill Sparrow, then?"

"No, he got eaten by a kraken," Alison said, ignoring Norrington's incredulous look. "I shot Beckett and his henchman."

"You shot Beckett?" Norrington asked, looking thrilled. "You're better than I thought!"

"Better? In what way?" Alison asked, trying to hide her pride.

Norrington shrugged. "I don't know. Before I thought you were an evil, temperamental woman."

"And now?" Alison asked, now having to hide her fury at being called evil.

"Now, you're just temperamental."

Alison was going to punch him, but she looked up at his smiling face and just chuckled.

Michelle looked back at her sister, laughing at Norrington, and smiled. Will noticed this and smiled down at her.

"Are you all right? You looked a little upset back in the prison," he said, looking down at her with concern.

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks," Michelle said. She hadn't realized that Will had noticed her discomfort upon seeing the strong father-daughter bond between Elizabeth and her father.

"No, there was something bothering you," Will persisted. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Michelle was surprised he had noticed; usually she was able to hide her emotions pretty well when she wanted to. Or was she surprised that he cared?

"Some other time," she said, smiling. "Some other time."

She watched Elizabeth walking with her father, whose arm was around her shoulders. Elizabeth was talking animatedly, describing her adventures over the past to Weatherby, who looked taken aback at all the action.

Will was watching her, too. Finally, Michelle decided to act.

"She still loves you, you know," she blurted, nodding towards Elizabeth.

Will glanced down at Michelle, then back at Elizabeth. Then he did a slight double take and stared back down at Michelle. "What?" he asked stupidly.

Michelle smiled. "She loves you!" she repeated.

Will shook his head. "I saw her kissing Jack," he said darkly.

"She wasn't doing that because she loves him, she was doing it to save your lives," Michelle said earnestly. "Listen..."

She explained Elizabeth's reasoning on how the kraken was after Jack--only Jack.

"So, you see, she was only kissing him to distract him!" she finished, looking up at Will hopefully. "So...do you think you can forgive her?" she asked tentatively, searching his face with her eyes.

Will stared at his fiancé, his face unreadable. Then, all of a sudden, he strode up next to her, took her gently from her father, and kissed her passionately on the lips.

Michelle sighed happily at the romantic scene. Weatherby looked shocked at Will's behavior, but his face soon melted into a smile. Alison stared, surprised, and Norrington looked on darkly.

When they broke the kiss, Will began to talk, not letting Elizabeth speak.

"Elizabeth, I've loved from the moment I met you, and I've never stopped loving you," he said, staring deep into his eyes. "Please, if you feel the same way, let me know, because if you don't love me, I can't go on living another day."

Elizabeth stared up at him, then threw her arms around his neck.

No words were needed between the two of them as they hugged. Michelle let out an adoring, "Awww!"

This alerted the couple to their company. They broke apart, smiling at each other happily. They shared another kiss and continued walking, hand in hand.

Michelle sighed happily. She had to admit, she was a sucker for romance.

Weatherby smiled after his daughter and future son-in-law, clearly approving. He followed, but not too closely behind, giving them their space.

Alison realized that Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty hadn't noticed a thing and that they had kept walking. They had been leading the group, and they hadn't even noticed when everyone else stopped.

Alison glanced up at Norrington, wondering what he thought about the two making up, but his face was unreadable.

_Besides, he didn't even know they were broken up,_ she thought as they continued walking. _I guess I've got a lot of explaining to do for him..._

When the group reached the docks of Port Royal, more discussion was in store.

"I'm going to look for the _Flying Dutchman_ find my father," Will said when the topic of planning came up.

"And I'm coming with you," Michelle said, looking frightened but determined.

Elizabeth swallowed, obviously wanting to join her fiancé, but didn't offer to join.

"This is your quest," she said, smiling ruefully at Will and running her hand down his hair.

"I know," he said. "But Michelle will be a great help," he added, smiling at his friend, who smiled back.

"I've got to stay here and take care of my father," Elizabeth told Will. "And then we'll try to find Jack and Monica."

"Are you sure you don't want us to come with you, lad?" Gibbs asked Will.

"No, you've done more than enough already," Will replied gratefully. "Thank you for all you've done."

Gibbs nodded. "Then we'll stay here and wait for word of Jack," he said.

Alison hugged Michelle briefly as a goodbye.

"Be careful, alright?" she said, smirking.

"I'll be fine," Michelle said, returning the smile. "I've got Will to take care of me, after all."

The two sisters glanced over at Will, who had gone off a ways to speak privately with Elizabeth, who appeared to be teary-eyed again.

"Hey, don't let Norrington get you down," Michelle said jokingly.

"Him? Me? Never!" Alison scoffed.

They laughed and watched as Will and Elizabeth returned. Elizabeth gave her fiancé one last kiss on the cheek before letting him go.

And Michelle and Will left the rest of the group, disappearing in the maze of ships that was the Port Royal docks.


	7. Chapter 7

It had been four days since Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica had set out from Tortuga. They had been sailing through the day and night, leaving them exhausted, anxious, and cranky.

One example of this--well, several, actually--was whenever Barbossa nearly lost his temper with the odd fifteen-year-old girl he soon came to loathe. Not that she could help it, of course.

He never missed an opportunity to curse her lack of brain capacity whenever she seemed to be doing something wrong.

"YOU BLITHERING IDIOT!" he roared one day as she tripped over a rope conveniently placed in her path by a giggling Ragetti. She had fallen grandly, the bucket of dirty water from swabbing the deck flying out of her hands, crashing to the deck, spraying water everywhere, and rolling to his feet.

Monica thought he was about to beat her. She had gotten up hurriedly, apologizing profusely as she grabbed the bucket. When she straightened up, she found Barbossa's glaring eyes burning into hers.

He didn't say anything, just growled and snatched the bucket, turning away from her and storming off to the helm. Monica had held off her anger with Ragetti, but after a couple days of this she was bound to loose her temper soon.

Monica supposed this had all started the night they had left Tortuga on the _Jolly Roger_, when he had told her he would kill her if she got in the way of his plans to take the Pearl for himself. She had tried to stay on his good side, but it had been hard with Pintel and Ragetti against her, too.

She often wondered how they found the time to torment her--although they were on a small ship, there was still an immense amount of work to be done. She rarely found any sleep, and if she did, it was usually interrupted after a few minutes, thanks to the antics of her crewmates.

There had been the time Ragetti dropped the spider on her face as she tried to take a short nap. Or the time Pintel had dumped water all over her to wake her up. All in all, the terrible twosome were almost all she could bear.

But then there was Barbossa. There was no doubt about it; he hated having her in his presence. Although she tried her hardest to keep her mouth shut around him, he always seemed to find something to complain about.

Take the next day after they left, for example. Barbossa had been watching, slightly amused, as Pintel struggled to heave the heavy sail up the mast.

"That tough enough for you?" Barbossa had asked, smirking.

"No, not hard enough," Pintel had panted, eager to prove that he wasn't a weakling.

At that moment, Monica had happened to be walking by. "That's what _she_ said!" she cracked before she could stop herself.

The two pirates had just stared at her, Pintel looking incredulous, Barbossa looking furious. Monica had grimaced, cursing herself for letting the dirty joke slip, and continued walking, avoiding looking at the pair of them.

Now, four days later, things weren't much better off. She had been working her ass off on the ship only to be tortured by the three pirates. Her usual job was cleaning up after them--you have to remember, they ate a lot, still remembering the effects of the old curse--when they left a mess in the galley. She also scrubbed the deck, cooked (badly, but they hardly cared--food was food), and sometimes Barbossa would let her take over at the helm if he needed some sleep.

"How do I know where to go?" she had asked dubiously the first time this had happened.

"Don't worry, I don't think even _you_ could get us that far off course," Barbossa had replied, yawning.

"Thanks," Monica had muttered as he retreated to the captain's quarters.

This was usually at night, as Pintel and Ragetti usually slept then too, leaving her alone above deck in the darkness, her only light from the moon and the stars, the warm, soft breeze tickling her cheeks, the moonlight reflecting off her hair and the sea.

These were her favorite moments. Without the pressure of not pissing off Barbossa for the day, she was free to have time to think.

Her thoughts usually went to her sisters, lots of times to Jack, but every so often she would wonder why she was there, why this had happened to her, and where the hell her parents had bought a magical dryer.

As for Jack, usually she mused about how she missed him, about what she would do when she finally saw him again, about what would happen if they couldn't find him...

When she came around to this question of whether they would be able to rescue him, she quickly veered her mind to her sisters, whom she worried about all the time. Were they okay? Were they afraid? Was Alison finally able to accept what was happening as the truth?

And this brought her back to why this had happened--why her dryer had brought her here in the first place.

So, in this way, her nights were spent thinking in circles, but she welcomed the change all the same. It was much better than being around Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti all day, anyway.

Now, back to the present. Finally. Anyway, Monica was at the helm this afternoon, as Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti had gone into the captain's quarters, obviously having a heated discussion. Monica had listened intently to hear what they were arguing about, but to no avail. She didn't dare try to get closer to the room, fearing Barbossa's wrath. So she stood at the helm, pretending to be Steamboat Willy.

She whistled and danced like Mickey Mouse, only to break out into giggles. She sobered up quickly, however, as Barbossa threw the doors open furiously, striding out onto the deck, with Pintel and Ragetti at his heels.

"Cap'n, if we don't find him--" Pintel was saying desperately, trying to get his point in.

"I don't want to hear any more about it!" Barbossa growled, whirling around to face the pirate.

"But, cap'n--"

"ENOUGH!" Barbossa shouted angrily. "You think I have nothing better to do than listen to your foolish ideas? Hmm!"

At that, all three of them started talking at once, each one's voice trying to rise above the others'.

Monica stared at them dubiously, wondering if they would be stopping anytime soon. When their arugument only got more heated, she felt herself growing angry.

"Hey!" she yelled from the helm. No one noticed her.

"_Hey!_" she repeated, louder this time, but there was still no response. This didn't daunt her, however.

"HEY! Cut it out, guys! Shut up, or I _swear_ I will turn this ship around!" she screamed over them, but they only got louder and ignored her.

Furious, Monica heaved the wheel as hard as she could to the left, a la Jack in _The Curse of the Black Pearl_. The sail swung around, heading straight for the three arguing pirates. Luckily, they noticed in time and ducked just as it flew over them.

Barbossa looked up at Monica mutinously. She almost balked, but stared back determinatedly.

_Well, at least that shut them up,_ she thought darkly as Barbossa walked up to her.

He took hold of the helm, glaring down at her. Monica backed up a step instinctively, but didn't break his gaze.

"Now why would you go and do a thing like that?" Barbossa growled at her.

"What, turn the ship around?" Monica asked dubiously.

Barbossa clenched his jaw and closed his eyes briefly as if asking why he had to deal with this girl. Monica's eyes widened as she realized her mistake.

"Oh! You mean nearly whacking you with the sail, of course," she said, smiling weakly. "Of course..."

"I _know_ you wouldn't do _anything_ to anger me, as I'm taking you to rescue your _precious_ Jack...after I've already done _so_ much for you..." Barbossa said in a low, dangerous voice that was dripping with sarcasm.

Monica got the hint and dropped her eyes. "Sorry," she muttered. When she thought about losing her pride or losing her life, she would definitely choose to save her life.

"That's what I thought," he growled. Monica didn't look up, but scowled at her feet.

"Go get some sleep," he said.

Monica left without a word, edging past each of the three pirates as she made her way below deck.

Once she was sure she was out of earshot when she was down below, she immediately started grumbling to herself.

"Of course, it's always _me_ who's doing something wrong...don't blame _me_ if you're all fighting like drunken idiots...'I've done _soooo_ much to help you...'...oh, yeah? Name three things you've done, asshole."

When she reached her quarters, she sat down on the bed and rubbed her eyes. She hadn't realized how long it had been since she had last slept...had it really been four days since she had actually gotten a good night's sleep?

_Yeah, well, I'm overdue,_ she thought darkly as she blinked a couple of times to clear her vision. She glanced around the room, her eyes tired from too many hours spent open and now from the furious rubbing they had gotten, and eventually her gaze fell upon her belt hanging on a chair in her room.

Monica stared at it for a while, contemplating the strange circumstances in which she had gotten it.

_How did they end up at that blacksmith's shop in Tortuga?_ she wondered, rising to finger the leather belt. _I left it with Jack, didn't I?_

Her brow furrowed as she tried to remember where it had been the day she left Jack, the last day of her first trip to the Pirates world. Her thinking was interrupted, however, when there was a knock on her door.

"Yeah?" she called, still frowning at her belt.

The door creaked open, revealing Ragetti standing outside.

"What?" Monica asked, her thoughts distracted with memories.

"Cap'n wants to see ya," Ragetti said, his eye swerving around in his socket haphazardly.

"Okay...just a minute," Monica replied, still not fully recovered from her reverie. Ragetti nodded and left.

Monica stood still for a moment, then started putting the belt on. Hell, she wasn't taking any chances--what if Barbossa had finally snapped and was about to kill her?

_Then I'd kick his ass!_ Monica thought grimly. Instead of toughening her up, however, this thought only made her laugh. She chuckled as she fastened the buckle across her chest, finding the thought of her fighting Barbossa highly amusing.

By the time she jumped up above deck, she was humming a song that had been stuck in her head all day. She saw Barbossa beckoning her by the helm and walked over, going over the chorus in her head.

When she neared him, he walked to the side of the ship. She followed, now tapping her hands against her thighs along with the song in her head.

"That's an enchanting tune...what song is it?" Barbossa asked. Monica was surprised to see he was smiling slightly.

"Uh...it's 'Stickwitu' by the The Pussycat Dolls," she replied, her eyebrows raised.

Barbossa frowned at her slightly, but didn't have a chance to answer.

"Cap'n, look!" Pintel exclaimed, pointing out across the sea.

There as a large island coming into view ahead of them.

Monica figured whatever Barbossa had wanted to talk about with her wasn't that important, as at the sighting of the island he left her side immediately to consult his maps. He was gone for almost five minutes before he emerged from his quarters, grinning and revealing his yellowing teeth.

"That's it," was all he said.

About an hour later, the _Jolly Roger_ was anchored in the shallow waters in front of the island. Its crew was a ways down the beach, walking along the water.

"Uh...can I ask what we're doing?" Monica asked cautiously, afraid Barbossa would blow up at her.

"We're looking for Sparrow," he replied shortly. Monica glanced at him, wondering if he would say any more, but he remained silent.

"Umm..." Monica frowned and looked along the beach. The bright afternoon sun had been covered by some low gray clouds, casting a gloomy look over the island. The sand, which had been white when they had arrived, had turned a depressing shade of gray. The breeze had stopped, leaving the humid air still, not stirring the trees in the jungle that started up about 100 yards from the edge of the beach.

"I'm curious as to why we're on an island..." Monica continued, her eyes straining to see down the beach. "I mean...Jack was eaten by a kraken...so unless he, you know...went all the way through--"

"Shut up!" Barbossa growled. Monica obeyed, snapping her mouth shut, her eyes wide.

_What a charming man,_ she thought dryly. She veered off to the side to walk in the gentle waves that were lapping up on the beach. She looked down at her feet through the clear water, watched the spray on her boots, watched her pants turn dark as the water splashed them. She sighed dejectedly, thinking of Barbossa's refusal to explain what he was doing, and looked up.

She frowned. What was that ahead of her, in the water? It looked like...

Suddenly she started striding to it, with a bit of difficulty as the water splashed about her calves. She didn't care, though: she was too shocked.

Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti exchanged glances and stopped, staring at the strange behavior of the girl. They gathered at the edge of the water, wondering what had gotten her so excited.

Monica stopped in front of the object, blocking the pirates' view of what she was staring at. She bent down slowly and picked it up.

It was Jack's hat.

Monica stared at it, not sure what to think. Did this mean he was near? Or could he have lost this a long time ago? What if it had fallen off or something when the kraken had--

Monica felt the pirates' eyes on her. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, trying not to think about all the bad things that could have happened to Jack. Why hadn't she prepared herself for this before? Why hadn't she considered the possibility that maybe she wouldn't be able to save him?

Monica slowly lifted the hat and placed it on her head.

She wasn't sure why she did it. Maybe it was because she didn't know what to do next. Maybe it was to hide the tears in her eyes.

Maybe it was because she wanted to feel closer to him.

Well, that worked.

She heard Pintel gasp behind her. She turned around dejectedly, her eyes shaded by Jack's hat, to see what was the matter.

All three of them were staring at something behind her. Confused, she turned back around again.

Her eyes widened. She tipped the hat up further on her forehead to get a better look, her jaw dropping slightly.

Captain Jack Sparrow was sailing towards Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica...on a pair of sea turtles.

He had a foot on each one of them. A rope was tied around each one, and he held the ends of the ropes in his hands, as a sort of makeshift set of reins.

He looked very strange, actually, but it was quite an entrance. He sailed past Monica, picking the hat up off her head as he passed.

Monica turned and stared at him as he hopped off the turtles, mashing the hat onto his head. He glanced at Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti, who were gaping back at him. Only then did he turn around and see, really see, Monica.

He blinked and stared at her. She stared at him.

"Is this a dream?" he asked dubiously, frowning.

"Of course not; then there'd be rum," Monica said, still in shock.

Then her face broke into a smile.

She ran through the water and leaped for him, throwing her arms around his neck and squealing like a six-year-old.

"Okay, now it's a nightmare," he grumbled, trying to push her away.

But she wouldn't have it. She only hugged him tighter, hardly daring to believe that he was here. She had dreamed of seeing him again for so long...his death had haunted her dreams...she had spent weeks worrying about him...she had been split up with her sisters only to sail for four days with pirates that hated her...and now, finally, he was here, in her arms.

Monica couldn't control her giggling. She knew she looked like an idiot, but she didn't care. She kissed Jack's cheek and gave him one last hug, then finally stepped back, clearing her throat and trying to compose herself.

"Oh, good, I think I was going to be sick," Barbossa said witheringly from behind Jack, who rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so that means you're real, too," he said, sounding highly disappointed. Then he did a double take. "Wait, you're real?" he asked incredulously. "I shot you!"

Barbossa chuckled. "You've got Tia Dalma to thank for this," he said, grinning.

Jack raised his eyebrows briefly. "_Now_ I wish this was a dream," he said darkly.

"Jack, how did you escape the kraken?" Monica asked earnestly, still excited about seeing her old friend again.

Jack smirked and placed a foot on one of the turtles, who were still swimming about in the shallow waters. "You've got _them_ to thank for that," he said, grinning. "And...Tia Dalma."

Monica nodded, amused. "And how did she help you out?"

Jack held out his hand, revealing some of the rings he had stolen from the voodoo woman's shack in _Dead Man's Chest._

Monica shook her head, scoffing. "I should have known," she muttered.

"Why?" Jack asked, frowning.

"Because that idea's been floating around the Internet for ages!" Monica said, rolling her eyes.

Jack stared at her. "What's an Internet?" he asked. Then he shook his head as if trying to get rid of a distraction. "No, wait--why is _he_ here? And why are _you_ here?" he asked Monica, looking pathetically confused.

"Well, ya see, Tia Dalma kinda brought Barbossa back from the dead--"

"You don't need to speak that way; I'm right here," Barbossa interrupted sourly.

"--well, anyway, she was like, 'Well, you dudes need a guy who can help you save Jack, and he knows where to go,' and everyone else was like, 'Ohmigod! No _way_!'...or at least I guess they were, becasue that's when the movie ended...well, anyway, that's when me and my sisters got here--"

"There are _more_ of you?" Jack asked desperately, looking more confused by the minute.

"Oh, yeah, but they went off with Will, Elizabeth--"

Jack suddenly turned somber as Monica mentioned Elizabeth. Monica smirked at his reaction.

"Don't worry about it, man, she feels terrible...wait, where was I? Oh, yeah, my sisters. Well, there's two of them, 18 and 21, and Tia Dalma was all like 'You have to help Will and Elizabeth!' and they were like '...okay...' so they went with them...but I had to come help find you, and now here I am, and you obviously didn't need much rescuing, I mean, look, you've come up on sea turtles, just like you said..." she trailed off, frowning suddenly. "How much back hair do you really have?" she asked, wrinkling her nose at the rope that was floating in the water.

Jack rolled his eyes. "That's real rope, thank-you-very-much."

"Oh, sorry," Monica said, raising her eyebrows. "You never know. What, did you find it inside the kraken or something?" she asked.

"Yeah. Seems he has an appetite for big ships," Jack said. "Which brings me to my next point: where's my ship?"

"If you're talking about the Pearl, that's _my_ ship," Barbossa growled.

Jack turned to him, his upper body swivelling around haphazardly. "We made a deal about this last time," he said, as if surprised that Barbossa had forgotten.

"Well, the deal's off," Barbossa snapped. "Has been ever since I returned to life."

And he drew his sword. Jack did the same, but Monica jumped to stand between them.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, can't we just work this out, guys?" she asked anxiously, extending an arm to each pirate on either side of her. "Come on, we've had a long day, and I'm sure being in a kraken was no picnic--"

"No, it wasn't," Jack said helpfully.

"Right. So let's just calm down, put our swords away, and talk this out like adults," Monica continued.

Barbossa chuckled. "Since when were you an adult?" he asked condescendingly, making Pintel and Ragetti laugh with him.

Monica gave him a sour look, but kept trying. "Look, we don't even know where the Pearl is! Why should we start fighting over it now?"

"Well, it'd be nice to have you two out of the way," Barbossa said calmly.

At this, he, Pintel, and Ragetti started chuckling in unison. Monica backed away slowly next to Jack, feeling a sick sense of dread at the pirates' menacing laughs.

"Got any 'loopholes' to get out of this one?" Monica asked him nervously.

"What?" Jack asked cluelessly.

"You know, 'loopholes'! Our little code word from last time?" Monica reminded him.

Jack frowned, appearing to be thinking. "How did you remember that?" he asked dubiously.

Monica grinned. "Fangirl!" she said with a little chuckle.

They continued backing away as the pirates advanced toward them, leering at them. Monica's mind raced on how to get out of this, but she knew she had to fight. She resolutely drew her sword, kept backing away, and...

...tripped on a sea turtle. She fell backwards with a splash, her arms--one with a sword--flailing madly to try to keep her balance, but all she managed was a sore ass--not to mention a pretty damaged pride.

Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti roared with laughter. Monica even could have sworn she heard Jack stifle a snort.

Her sword had been flung out of her hand with her fall. As the sea turtle swam away, she felt around frantically for her weapon. The splash she had made had stirred up the water too much to see clearly.

Finally, her hand closed on the leather grip of her sword. She pulled it up and stood up, her whole backside dripping with water.

She had hoped to run by the three evil pirates while they were busy laughing at her, but she had no luck. They were advancing again, pushing Jack and Monica deeper into the water.

Finally, Barbossa attacked. He headed for Jack, an ominous "Arrr!" serving as his battle cry. This left Monica open to attack by Pintel and Ragetti.

Grimacing, she managed to hold them off, throwing her sword up against theirs. She played by a defensive tactic, mainly because she knew she wouldn't be able to beat the two of them. Plus, it was difficult to move freely in the knee-deep water.

Eventually, she was able to get rid of Ragetti by making him stumble hard, which in turn made his eye pop out. While he howled and dropped to his knees to look for his precious eye (which floated, luckily for him), Pintel and Monica locked sabers.

Monica's mind raced back to a time when Michelle had bought a computer game for her--_The Legend of Jack Sparrow_, in fact. Grinning, she remembered a move from the game.

"F, 8!" she yelled, kneeing Pintel in the crotch.

He groaned in pain and doubled over. At that moment, Jack had managed to knock Barbossa down into the water. He nodded at her, and the two started sprinting for the beach.

When they were out of the water, Monica glanced back to see the three furious pirates chasing them.

"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously as they picked up speed.

"I have no idea!" Jack yelled back.

They reached the jungle. Jack used his sword to hack and slash through the vines, branches, and leaves, but Monica was so frantic that she just tried to run through them.

Soon she was caught in the vines. Jack kept running ahead of her.

"Wait!" Monica screamed, but Jack didn't hear her. She groaned and tried to cut through the vines with her sword, only to lose her balance and fall flat on her face.

_I'll never be able to catch up to him,_ Monica thought wildly. _And they must be catching up!_

Sure enough, she heard thrashing in the jungle behind her. She stifled a gasp and rolled over under a large bush.

Barbossa emerged from the vines. Pintel appeared soon after, looking mutinous. Ragetti followed next, blowing on his eye frantically.

He was so close that Monica could have caught the drops falling from his wet clothes on her tongue, if her hands weren't clasped over her mouth for fear of breathing too loudly. Terrified, she wondered if they would find her.

But she was lucky. Once the little group had reformed, Barbossa motioned them forward with a hand.

"Find those two idiots! I want them dead or alive!" he snarled as they tore through the jungle.

When Monica could no longer hear their thrashing, she let out a long breath. She crawled out from under the bush and stood slowly, panting from holding her breath for so long.

She wondered what to do. Should she try to go after them? Should she return to the beach to see if Jack had somehow managed to arrive there, too? Should she--

A gunshot pierced the still, muggy air somewhere further inland on the island.

Monica's blood ran cold. _Jack,_ she thought numbly. _I have to get to Jack..._

And she started pushing her way through the brush.

Then there was another gunshot. And another. And a hellish roar.

Monica froze, looking up to see a flock of tropical birds fly up from the center of the island. She was pretty sure the yell had been Barbossa's, but was he happy, angry, or hurt?

Monica swallowed hard and kept tramping through the jungle.

Soon, by walking in the trampled path Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti had already made, she came upon a large clearing. She stood still immediately, seeing the three of them leaving the clearing, Barbossa shouting to his cronies.

Once they were gone, Monica took a deep breath and walked to the center of the clearing, looking around cautiously.

_Not much here,_ she thought, breathing heavily from all the running and clearing she had been doing. _It's just that there are no trees here...I wonder what--OH MY GOD!_

Someone had grabbed her from behind, seizing her waist and pulling her backward while clamping a hand over her mouth.

_Whoa, deja vu,_ she managed to think dryly before panicking.

She thrashed and kicked as hard as she could. Eventually her captor loosened his or her grip and turned her around.

Monica was about to stab her assailant when she saw him.

Jack was standing in front of her, one hand still on her shoulder as he panted. It seemed he had been running for a very long time, or else very fast, just to find her again.

Monica was about to speak, but Jack held a finger to his lips, nodding towards the end of the clearing where their enemies had just disappeared. Monica nodded and waited for him to speak.

"I think we should wait and rest a bit," he said quietly after a few deep breaths.

Monica shook her head furiously as another flock of birds sailed into the air above them, no doubt miffed at Monica and Jack for disturbing their peace. "No, we have to get away! 'Move along,' the All American Rejects said! 'And even when your hope is gone, move along, move along, like I know ya do!'"

A bullet sailed past her head.

"Move along!" Jack yelped anxiously, grabbing her arm.

The three angry pirates had evidently seen the birds flying away, put two and two together, and were heading back into the clearing.

"Come on!" Jack yelled, no longer worried about keeping his voice down. He started pullng her along by the arm he had grabbed.

A bullet whizzed past Monica's ear. She yelped and ducked, tearing her arm from Jack's to shield her head. Jack swore and kept running as another bullet threatened to pierce his side.

The next shot, Monica wasn't so lucky.

She shouted as she felt the bullet hit her arm. It had sliced through the skin on her right shoulder, making her drop her sword immediately. Pain shot through her arm and she stumbled, nearly falling.

Jack noticed. He turned around, wide-eyed, as he watched her fall to her knees.

Grimacing, Monica moved a hand to her arm, wincing horribly as her palm pressed the wound. She brought it back in front of her and saw it covered with her own blood.

She felt herself swoon. Jack crouched beside her. For a minute she thought he was going to throw her over his shoulder, but she knew he was too heavy for him.

Instead, he pulled the bullet out.

Monica full-out screamed in pain. Jack tossed the bullet away and began to help her up, but it was too late--Barbossa, Pintel, and Ragetti were upon them.

Monica looked up weakly, turning her head so she could see them. She felt weak with pain. She had never been shot before, living in 21st century Houston, and there was no doubt that this was the worst pain she had ever experienced.

Barbossa smirked down at her pale face. "Weak," he sneered. "Just like your friend."

Jack said nothing. He only had a slight pout on his face, as if he knew his adversary had won this round.

"We'll lock 'em up," Barbossa said, nodding towards Pintel, who moved forward with a length of rope he had produced.

"Any of you so much as thinks the word 'parley,' I'll have your guts for garters!" he snarled as he tied Monica's hands behind her back.

Monica snorted through the pain. "You wear garters?" she asked, scoffing slightly as she recognized his line from _The Curse of the Black Pearl_.

This only earned her a smack in the wound. She yelped and leaned forward, biting down hard to keep from screaming out.

When she looked up again, Jack's hands had been tied, too. She looked wearily up at Barbossa.

"You can't kill us," she said softly, her arm pounding painfully. "You can't sail that ship with three people."

Barbossa smirked. "True, missy. We may have use for you yet...at least until we get the Pearl back."

"The Pearl won't sail with only five people to crew her. Especially if one of them is a wounded girl," Jack spoke up. "I'm afraid you're gonna have to put your search for the Pearl on hold, mate."

Barbossa gave him a sour look. "I think I know how to captain my own ship," he said darkly.

"Ah," said Jack. "But the man who does the captaining knows more about the ship than the man who's in the crew. And you've spent more time under me than I have under anyone. Therefore, my word is the one we'll be trusting, as I most certainly know my ship better than my mutinous first mate. Savvy?"

He smirked at Barbossa, clearly thinking he'd won. But Barbossa returned the smile.

"You forget, Jack, that I'm the one who had you marooned on that island. You weren't captain of the Pearl for ten years, while I was in charge. Therefore, the way I see it is...I've been captain of the Pearl longer than you have."

Barbossa grinned, his yellow teeh matching his eyes. Jack smiled and stared back.

"You have no idea how long I'd been captaining that ship before you came along," he said, smiling faintly.

Barbossa's smile faded, and his face contorted into a scowl.

"Take 'em to the ship!" he ordered Pintel and Ragetti.

Monica had had all that she could take. She passed out.

Monica woke up with a throbbing arm, a million questions, and a smelly pirate next to her.

"Good morning," Jack said cheerfully as she opened her eyes.

She jumped and looked around to see him sitting cross-legged next to her in the single cell of the brig of the _Jolly Roger_.

"Is it really morning?" she asked , groaning as she sat up.

"No, it's still afternoon," Jack assured her.

"The same afternoon, right?" she asked. He nodded. "Good. I need to keep track of the days."

Jack frowned. "You're here for thirty days again?" he asked.

Monica grinned in spite of the pain in her arm. "What, sorry to see me go again?" she teased.

"No, I'm _glad_ you're leaving," he huffed. Monica laughed and shook her head. They were still playing true to their former conversations, mostly teasing each other on how much the other liked or missed them.

"Man, you smell," Monica remarked, bringing her hand to her nose.

Jack shrugged. "Kraken spit," he said. "Sorry. I guess I've gotten used to it."

He sniffed under his armpits, making Monica laugh again. Then, the door to the brig burst open.

Barbossa strode in, carrying two apples. He threw them between the bars at his prisoners.

"Whoa! This seems familiar," Monica said, smirking at Jack. "Some hotshot pirate captain with a stupid hat holding us prisoner."

Barbossa only rolled his eyes and left. Monica arched her eyebrows.

"Not as easy to annoy as Troy, huh?" she remarked, rubbing the apple on her shirt.

Jack sighed reminiscently. "Those were the days, eh? A shipful of pirates to annoy...an angry one with hair like a rat's nest who tried to kill you every chance he got..."

"No pain in my arm," Monica muttered, grimacing slightly. She had tried to lift the apple with her arm, but had had to stop.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Well, if you're gonna complain about it." He motioned her closer to him and started ripping a shred of cloth off of his shirt.

Monica watched wearily, thinking how much easier the job would be if he had his knife. She glumly noticed that her own weapons were nowhere in sight. Then she remembered something.

"Jack," she said slowly. "What did you do with my sword and stuff after I left last time?"

Jack frowned while pulling at his shirt. "Let's see..." His brow furrowed slightly as he thought. "I can't remember," he admitted finally.

"Really? Because I found them in a shop in Tortuga," Monica said, watching his face carefully.

"Oh, right! I think I remember now," he said, yanking the last of the strip from his shirt. Monica obediently turned to move her wounded arm closer to him.

"So you brought it to Tortuga?" she continued, wincing as he tied the cloth around her arm. "Why would you do that? And when would you have the time? I mean, didn't you start looking for the key right away?"

Monica could have sworn she saw Jack's face twitch nervously. "Yes, I brought it there..." he sighed, as if resigning himself for what he was about to say. "I sold it for rum," he admitted.

Monica arched her eyebrows. "When?" she asked curiously.

Jack sighed impatiently. "After you left! We went to Tortuga, and I sold your weapons there for rum money," Jack said quickly.

Moncia frowned. "So...you wanted to drink right after I left?" Her face slowly changed into a wild grin. "You missed me!" she gasped, her eyes widening. "You just couldn't bear to have me gone, and you tried to drink me away!"

"No, that's not it!" Jack said angrily. "Can't a man do some honest drinking without getting yelled at for it? It's like all you women do is complain about how men like to drink."

"Hey, I never said I was complaining," Monica said, grinning.

Jack said nothing, but scowled. Monica sat still, happy with her discovery.

"Fine, I'll drop it...but I'll always know the truth!" she sang happily.

"The truth is that you're a little--" Jack began muttering, but Monica's laughter drowned him out.

He glanced up at her, mollified. Monica was reduced to giggles and tried to stifle them.

"I'm sorry. Really. It's just that I'm happy to see you again," Monica said sincerely.

"So _you_ missed me, then?" Jack asked, tying the final careful knot around her arm.

"Of course! How could anyone not miss you?" Monica said, grinning.

Jack grinned and was about to respond when the door opened again.

"I, for one, never missed him," Barbossa said.

Jack and Monica glanced at each other and then looked up at Barbossa, staying silent.

"Oh, no comments this time?" Barbossa asked, sounding surprised.

Monica began to speak, but Jack caught her eye and shook his head slightly. Monica smiled pleasantly and looked back up at Barbossa innocently.

Barbossa watched her suspiciously before speaking again. "We've decided to let you out for now...if we want to go anywhere, we are going to need as many people as possible," he said.

"Who's 'we,' the frog in your pocket?" Monica blurted.

Jack rolled his eyes and shook his head. Barbossa just gave her a funny look.

"Wait, where are we going?" Jack asked, giving Monica a stern look as if warning her not to speak again.

Barbossa grinned. "Somewhere," he said, his yellow eyes glinting. "Anyway...you can come out now, provided you're willing to help," he finished, drawing the keys to the cell from a pocket inside his jacket.

"And if we aren't willing?" Jack asked.

Barbossa smirked. "Then you die," he said, looking quite happy at this prospect.

Jack glanced at Monica. "I think we're willing to help," he said, smiling up at Barbossa. Monica nodded earnestly, knowing her questions for Jack would have to wait for another time.


	8. Chapter 8

As Michelle followed Will down the maze of docks in Port Royal, she took a deep, determined breath.

_Alright, Michelle, calm down,_ she thought, keeping her eyes on Will's back. _You're gonna get through this...right?_

Michelle didn't want to face what she thought to be the truth--that she was walking to her death. She couldn't shake Tia Dalma's prediction from her mind--that she would die on her journey.

_Yes, but she also said I'd come back,_ Michelle thought reasonably. _And she might be wrong! Maybe she was just messing with my head..._

But Michelle knew Tia Dalma had been sincere.

"You're awfully quiet," Will said, turning to her.

Michelle snapped her head up, jolting herself out of her reverie. She forced a smile and began, "Sorry..."

Will smiled and shook his head. "Don't apologize! It's just different than usual..."

It was true, Michelle and Will were usually found together, talking up a storm about anything and everyting. In fact, Michelle considered Will one of the best friends she had made. She knew it was cheesy, but she felt like she knew the young man, and somehow she had found it in herself to open up to him over the past weeks...perhaps it was because of the worry that was constanly plaguing her of the predicament she was in.

"So, uh, how exactly are we going to track down Davy Jones?" Michelle asked coolly, wanting to get away from the subject of her unusual manner. Well, unusual to Will, anyway. Back home she was usually quiet, preferring to keep alone with her thoughts.

_Back home..._ she couldn't help but think wistfully as Will began to speak.

"Well, I think Jones will be pretty upset about this," Will said, patting his chest, where Michelle knew the heart was. "But I don't want to get on a ship and put the crew in danger..."

Michelle nodded, admiring of Will's kind nature. "So how do you think we can find him?"

"Actually, I was hoping you would have some ideas," Will said, somewhat sheepishly.

Michelle let a smile come to her face. "Well, it's a good thing we're talking about this now, after that great exit," she half-joked.

"Maybe we should have asked for help," Will said, wincing slightly.

Michelle blew a breath out from her mouth, her cheeks puffing out for a moment. "Could we just row out to the open ocean?" she asked tentatively, knowing how lame the idea sounded.

But she was surprised. "That's what I was thinking," Will commented. "There doesn't seem to be any other option, does there?" He stopped to think for a moment, stepping out of the way for a man carrying a crate down the docks. "Don't you think he'd know where his heart was?"

"Yeah, and he'd come for us!" Michelle said excitedly. But then her face fell. "Wait...in the movie, he didn't know his heart was missing from the chest..." she muttered, mostly to herself.

"Sorry?"

Michelle looked up and tried to explain what she meant to Will. "At the end of the movie we saw, Jones got hold of the chest, and when he opened it, he had no idea Norrington had his heart--otherwise, he never would have bothered getting the chest, right? So that rules out the chance of him coming for it."

Will nodded, looking dejected. "Well, this isn't going exactly as planned," he muttered, sitting down on a nearby barrel.

Michelle nodded, letting out a sigh and settling herself on a crate across the dock from Will. What could they possibly do?

Then an idea dawned on her.

"He comes when someone is near death, right?" she asked quickly, making Will jump a bit from being pulled from his thoughts.

"Yes..." he said slowly. "What are you saying? There's no way we could find someone close to death out on the open sea."

"We don't need to find anyone," Michelle said softly. "We can use me."

Will stared at her, dumbfounded. Then, "What?!"

Michelle held up a hand to stave him off. "Will, I know what I'm doing. I know I'm going to die anyway."

This time, Will was speechless. Michelle then proceeded to explain what Tia Dalma had told her the first night she had arrived in this world, showing Will her broken lifeline on her hand.

When she finished, Will was a bit paler but still adamant. "No. I will not let you harm yourself for this," he said, shaking his head. He rose from his place on the barrel and walked a ways down the dock, as if not looking at his young friend would prevent this from happening.

"Will, there's no other way!" Michelle said desperately, springing from the crate and following him. "This is the only way we can save your father," she said softly, placing a placating hand on his arm.

She felt him tense, and he still wouldn't look at her. She knew the conflict that was raging inside of him: should he risk her life to save his father's? Or could he wait a little longer, placing his father in further danger, to think of a way to spare them both?

He finally turned toward her, looking down into her eyes intently. "No," was all he said before turning away again, gently pulling his arm from her grip.

"Will, you know you have to let me do this!" Michelle said desperately, following him again. "Look, do you want to save your father or not?"

"Of course I do!" Will said angrily over his shoulder.

"Then you know what to do!" Michelle said, catching up to him, grabbing his arm, and turning him to face her. Again, he avoided looking at her, but she saw the shame in his eyes anyway.

"Hey," she said softly, her eyes roving across his face. "I know what you're feeling...you know this is the only way."

Will closed his eyes briefly, and Michelle took this as a yes.

"You're going to have to let me go...besides, I'm leaving soon anyway..." She felt dread crawl into her stomach as she thought about the time she had left in this world. If she only had 30 days here, how much longer did she have left? How long had she been here?

She shook the thought from her mind, but there was no getting that horrid feeling out of her belly.

"So...you'll let me do it?" she asked tentatively, her eyes never leaving his face.

Frowning slightly and looking upset, Will took her hand and finally met her eyes.

"Yes," he said weakly.

Michelle smiled shakily and said, "Then let's find us a boat!"

An hour later, Will and Michelle were out on the open ocean in a longboat they had stolen. They had had a long discussion on the use of the word "commandeered" when the subject of the verb was something as small as a longboat and had agreed that saying that they had commandeered it was a bit precocious of them. Anyway, they were in the ocean in a longboat, and that's all you need to know.

"Got the heart?" Michelle asked tensely after an awkward silence.

"Right here," Will said nervously, patting the same spot on his chest.

There was another silence. Michelle couldn't help but think would it would be like to break that silence with her dying cries.

She physically shook herself as if the thought were an annoying fly buzzing around her head. "Alright..."

She couldn't bring herself to say the words in her head: "Should you do it, or should I?"

Glancing at Will, she knew he felt the same way.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Here she was, sitting in a boat in the middle of the sea with Will Turner, and she was about to die.

Without thinking, she seized her sword and plunged it into her stomach.

Will jumped from the other side of the boat with a yell as Michelle pulled the sword from her body and crumpled to the floor. Kneeling at her side, Will's hands fluttered around her face, unsure what to do.

Michelle was in utter agony. _Well, how's that for the understatement of the year?_ she thought dryly--well, as well as dryly as anyone can think as they bleed to death.

"Michelle..." was all Will could say as he cradled her face in his hands.

"Shut up," she whispered, swallowing hard to keep blood from dribbling out of her mouth.

She glanced at his face, her vision going hazy. She wasn't sure, but she thought she saw tears in his eyes...

Will pounded the bench Michelle had been sitting on with his fist, letting the tears flow freely.

"Hey!" Michelle tried to reach for his arm, but she was finding it difficult to function properly at the moment. "Stop...you knew...this was..the right thing to do..."

She closed her eyes and moaned slightly as she felt more blood flow from the wound in her stomach. She felt her world heave and churn, and she knew the end was near...

_Wait, the whole boat is churning!_ she thought faintly.

She wearily turned her head to the side just in time to see the Flying Dutchman rise from under the water.

The little boat nearly capsized in the resulting wave, and Will threw himself to the side to balance out the weight.

_Hey, this reminds me of _Poseidon Michelle thought. Then: _Holy cow, my life really _is_ flashing before my eyes!_

When the Flying Dutchman was completely above water and the longboat wasn't rocking as much in the water, Michelle saw Will stand up in the boat through blurry eyes.

_Damn, I wish I could see this better,_ she thought hazily. Instead of straining to see, she closed her eyes and concentrated on continuing to breathe, trying to ignore the intense pain in her stomach.

She thought she heard Davy Jones's voice calling to them from aboard the Flying Dutchman.

"I'm here to redeem the debt on my father!" she heard Will yell in response.

Suddenly she felt herself rise, and for a moment she thought her soul was leaving her body or something. She forced her eyes open and realized that Davy Jones was now standing in the small boat, and his weight had caused her end of the boat to rise.

_Whoa..._ she thought weakly. _Mad transportaion skillz, I forgot..._

Squinting, she saw Jones look her over before Will stepped between them and pulled the bag that held the heart from his shirt. She watched as Jones' eyes widened as Will pulled the still-beating organ from the bag.

Will then drew a knife from his belt. "If you don't let my father go, I'll destroy it," he said threateningly.

Before she realized what had happened, Jones had drawn his sword and lunged at Will.

And just like that, she knew she was about to die.

She knew she couldn't let anyone see her die--what if her body disappeared into her own world?

As she rolled herself over the side of the boat, she barely remembered hitting the water as she felt the sensation of rising in the air...then a bright light...then going through a tunnel...and she was in her laundry room, perfectly dry, healthy, and shell-shocked.


	9. Chapter 9

As she watched Will and Michelle enter the maze of ships of the docks, Alison felt curiously numb. She supposed it was because this whole thing was completely unbelievable--her younger sister had just left with Will Turner to seek out Davy Jones to save Bootstrap Bill, and God knew where her other younger sister was...

As Alison stared off into space, Gibbs turned to the rest of the group, which was silent as well. Elizabeth wiped a tear from her cheek, and her father put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly. Norrington was looking around skeptically, clearly seeing nothing wrong with seeing Will and some girl leaving.

"Well!" he said, breaking the uncomfortable silence as the wind picked up. "I'm starving, how about you?" he asked, looking down at Alison.

This was enough to set Alison's temper over the edge.

"What?" was all she managed to get out, trying not to shake with rage. The clouds seemed to get darker as her face darkened with anger.

"Oh, that was sad and all, but really, we should get moving, shouldn't we?" Norrington continued, seemingly oblivious to Alison's fury. "I mean, I've been locked in prison for weeks..."

"My sister just left to confront Davy Jones and all you can think about is FOOD?!" Alison roared, advancing toward him threateningly.

"Whoa, missy!" Gibbs exclaimed, alarmed, hurrying forward and grabbing Alison's arms. At his touch, she relaxed a bit, realizing how stupid it would be to attack Norrington. She calmed herself down until Gibbs released her, her glare never leaving Norrington's face, who stared right back, his expression unreadable.

As the wind whipped the group's hair around their faces (if their hair was long enough to be whipped, of course--Marty, you'll recall, has no hair, and Governor Swann wasn't wearing his wig), Gibbs said, "Alright, you lot. Where're we stayin' for the night?"

They decided to stay at an inn in one of the poorer parts of Port Royal. The Swann's house was still under control of Beckett's men, and they had deemed it best if they kept out of the East India Trading Company's hair for a while.

After eating dinner at the inn and glaring at Norrington every chance she got, Alison went outside to take a walk.

It had rained a bit earlier that afternoon, and the streets were muddy. The sky, however, was clear, and there were no clouds to cover the bright full moon.

Sighing deeply and taking in the warm, moist air, Alison set off down the road, not knowing where she was going--and not really caring, either.

Now, there were only her thoughts to comfort her. _Not that that's necessarily a good thing,_ she thought grimly. _Not with all the crap that's been going on lately..._

As she walked the muddy streets, she turned everything that had happened to her and her sisters over the past days over in her mind.

_Sucked through a dryer...landing in the _Pirates of the Caribbean_ world...splitting up on death defying adventures...man, am I going to need some serious therapy after this..._

Alison turned onto another street, barely looking up to see where she was going, just following her feet. Her thoughts passed over the events of the past and moved to Norrington's dismissal of her sister's exit.

Was she overreacting? Perhaps a little bit. Hadn't he just had a bad few weeks? Of course he would be a bit uncaring...

_No,_ she thought, her stubbornness getting the best of her. _There's no way I'm giving in to that cold, heartless--_

She thought she heard a step behind her.

She looked up and found herself on a different street--a paved one...one she didn't recognize.

"Great," she muttered.

She heard another step from behind her and this time whirled around to face it, drawing her two pistols from her belt in one smooth motion, and pointing them at her stalker.

It was Cutler Beckett, decked out in cloak, manwig, and sling from when she had shot him before.

"Hello, Miss Connors," he said smoothly.

Alison kept her pistols trained on him as he slowly walked closer.

"How did you know my--" she began.

Beckett chuckled and said, "You didn't shoot my only assistant today when Mr. Turner took the heart from me."

Alison thought wearily back to the time she had shot that man--had it really been today? But her attention snapped back to the present as Beckett continued talking.

"Anyway, the only reason I came to speak with you is to propose an offer," he continued, stopping some three yards away from Alison.

"And what offer is that?" she replied calmly, not moving her pistols.

Another chuckle from Beckett. "Please, Miss Connors, I can't think with you pointing those guns at me," he said, sounding quite amused.

Alison contemplated this, then finally dropped her arms, deciding she could take him, pistols or no, since she had wounded his arm earlier. She slowly shoved them back into her belt, all the while keeping a wary eye on Beckett.

"There, now isn't that better?" Beckett remarked, smiling.

Alison couldn't say it was. "What do you want?" she demanded, getting more irritated by the second. Just being in this slimy man's presence was annoying.

"Alright, I'll get to the point," Beckett said, eyebrows raised slightly in an expression of bemused arrogance. He began to reach for his jacket pocket under his coat, and Alison flexed her fingers, ready to draw a pistol if the time called for it.

Pulling his hand back from under his cloak, Beckett produced a small, leather covered packet. Glancing up at Alison, he tossed it with his good hand. Alison caught it easily and looked down at the cover.

It was black, and she recognized the emblem on the cover as the one of the East India Trading Company.

"What's this?" she asked Beckett, staring down at the packet.

"Why don't you read it and find out?" Beckett replied smoothly, smirking slightly.

Alison shot him a glare and flipped it open. Her eyes scanned the parchment, and finally she saw a name she recognized. Her eyes widened as she realized what she was holding in her hands.

"An arrest warrant for me," she said aloud, managing to sound cooler than she felt. "How original."

Beckett smirked at her and walked closer. "That's right. I could take you in right now, if I wanted to."

It was Alison's turn to chuckle. "For helping Norrington escape?"

"Yes," Beckett said feigning seriousness. "You aided in the escape of a dangerous pirate."

"A _dangerous pirate_?" Alison repeated incredulously. "Oh, please. He was drunk half the time! He's no more responsible for his actions than I am."

"A charming description of his escapades," Beckett sneered. "But while he was in Tortuga...and other places...he engaged in acts of piracy."

"All to get his job back!" Alison exclaimed. "He did what you wanted, and you locked him up for it!"

"No, I locked him up for piracy," Beckett said calmly.

Alison glared at him. "And now you want to lock me up for helping a 'pirate' escape?" she said, gesturing with her arrest warrant. "You think I'm going to let that happen?" She dropped the leather packet on the ground and kicked it toward Beckett, watching it skid across the wet pavement.

"You might not have to," Beckett replied.

Alison stared at him. "What are you talking about?" she asked warily.

Beckett withdrew another leather-clad packet from the folds of his cloak, but this time kept it to himself.

"Another warrant?" Alison asked coldly.

"For your friend Norrington," Beckett said.

"I don't like where this is going," Alison muttered.

"If you help me put ex-Commodore Norrington in prison, I will revoke your warrant and you can go free," Beckett said.

"Oh, yeah?" Alison scoffed. "And what's stopping us from just picking up and leaving Port Royal?"

"Ah, well, that would keep you and Norrington out of my hair," Beckett said mused. "But don't think I wouldn't send someone to find you,"

Alison shook her head at his tenacity. "What do you have against Norrington, anyway?" she asked.

Beckett only smiled. "It's nothing personal, Miss Connors." He picked up Alison's arrest warrant and tucked it and Norrington's warrant back into the pocket hidden by his cloak.

"I'll give you the night to think about this. Meet me here tomorrow night and we'll discuss...our agreement."

He turned on his heel and disappeared into the night.

"How is it an agreement if I haven't agreed on anything yet?" Alison muttered. She sighed and closed her eyes. She had taken this walk to relax...but instead, she had only run into more trouble.

Alison spent the night tossing and turning, and eventually she just gave up trying to sleep and sat up in her bed.

She didn't turn on a lantern, for Elizabeth was sharing the room with her and was sound asleep.

Or so Alison thought.

"I can't sleep either," she said, startling Alison thoroughly as she sat up in her own bed.

Alison remained silent as Elizabeth turned on the lantern. As the light shone on her face, Alison noticed Elizabeth's tearstained cheeks and realized she must have had silent tears running down her face all night.

"I just can't stop thinking about Will," Elizabeth admitted. "I spent all this time worried that he hated me, and we only just made up, and now he's gone...and your sister, too! It's just all too horrible!"

Alison saw tears welling up in her eyes, and she reacted quickly to comfort her friend. "I know, it sucks...but Will's going to be okay, I know it."

Elizabeth smiled weakly at Alison. "Really?" she asked tentatively.

Alison nodded, smiling. "He's been through a lot. He knows how to handle himself."

Elizabeth gave a little laugh. "Then I think your sister will be okay, too," she said softly.

"What, because she's with Will?"

"Yes. They have a good friendship. He wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Alison nodded in agreement, knowing full well that Will Turner would keep anything from happening to Michelle.

She just hoped Jack Sparrow would do the same with Monica.

Alison didn't get much sleep that night, but at least she didn't spend the night worrying about the predicament Beckett had put her in. Well, it wasn't too bad of a predicament...

Alison had spent her waking hours considering Beckett's proposition. Sure, he could have her locked up, but how long would she stay? She would return to her own world soon enough. Then, Beckett would think she had somehow escaped and might go on a manhunt. Alison rather liked the idea of that evil man searching relentlessly for someone he could never find...well, not for 300 years, anyway.

Then there was the choice of taking Norrington in. Sure, she was mad at the man, but could she throw him in jail again just to save her own skin? Well...

Alison spent most of the day trying to avoid Norrington, which wasn't hard, as he seemed to be doing the same thing himself. Although he did seem to be doing it just to piss her off.

For example, the next day, Alison came down for breakfast, weary from her night of lying awake contemplating her options. She didn't notice that Norrington was coming in the front door of the inn to eat, too.

She pulled out a chair and plopped down, her thick spun gold hair swinging in front of her face so that she didn't see Norrington sit down in the chair across from her.

As she tucked her hair behind her ears, she noticed his dirty jacket and looked up slowly, her face darkening. Her eyes finally moved up to his smirking face, and she immediately shoved her chair back from the table, got up, and left.

She turned and headed for the door that led out of the main room of the inn, but Norrington met her there, and they both stopped in front of the door.

Norrington smiled sarcastically down at her. "Ladies first," he said sweetly.

"Go right ahead, then," Alison replied without missing a beat.

She later felt guilty. That was a lame old comeback where she was from, but now Norrington was surprised to hear it.

Alison took lunch at a late hour in hopes of missing Norrington. She was lucky--no one knew where he was. This caused her to worry a bit--had Beckett's men taken him in?--until she remembered his insensitivity, and she ate lunch happily with Elizabeth and Weatherby.

After dinner (which passed without incident), Alison slipped off from the inn to meet with Beckett again.

Luckily, she had memorized the way to where she had met Beckett the night before, and she made her way there quickly, keeping her head down as she passed the occasional commoner taking a nightly walk.

She reached the spot more quickly than she thought she would, and she suddenly felt foolish, standing there in the middle of the road for no apparent reason.

Until she heard footsteps behind her. She turned around, ready to speak with Beckett again.

But she was surprised.

Norrington was walking towards her, not at all his formal commodore's walk--more like a swagger.

Alison said nothing, but turned and started walking in the other direction.

"Hey--wait!" he called after her, but she only walked faster.

Norrington jogged to keep up with her long strides and soon caught up with her. He touched her arm in an effort to get her to stop, but she only wrenched it away.

"I just wanted to--" Norrington began.

"To what?" Alison interrupted, whirling around angrily to face him. "To go on disrespecting my sister? To make fun of the way I actually _care_ about her?"

"I wanted to apologize!" he said loudly, raising his voice above hers.

This shut Alison up. She stared up at him, trying to read his face in the moonlight, looking for any sign of lying--but he looked sincere.

"I know I wasn't very gentlemanly earlier," continued, panting slightly from jogging. "But I realized how rude I was, and I wanted to tell you how sorry I am."

There was a silence, only broken by their heavy breathing from nearly running down the street. Alison tried to hold his unwavering gaze, but found she couldn't and looked away.

She realized how stubborn and closed-minded she had been and felt extremely guilty. As usual, she had let her temper get the best of her and take her on a wild ride of anger and angst.

"Alison?" he asked softly, trying to get her to look at him, she supposed.

She did, grudgingly. "I forgive you," she said darkly, not wanting him to realize how he had touched her by coming after her to apologize. Most guys she knew just laughed it off and kept coming up with excuses for their behavior until she was the one who looked insensitive. "But I'm still mad at you."

A relieved smile broke across his face. "Good," he said, looking genuinely happy. "Now can we please get out of here? If you haven't noticed, we're on a paved road, which means we're in the nicer part of this damned place, which means--"

"Beckett," Alison breathed.

She had spotted him walking toward them over Norrington's shoulder, looking exactly the same way he did last night, but with a decidedly more accomplished look on his face.

"Well, well," he said as Norrington turned around and stood protectively in front of Alison. "So you did want to keep up your own end of the bargain after all."

Alison's eyes widened as she realized that Beckett thought she had brought Norrington to get herself out of going to prison--but she was surprised as Norrington spoke.

"This isn't what it looks like, I swear," he said, and Alison was puzzled to hear a note of alarm in his voice.

"Really?" Beckett said calmly. "Then what, may I ask, _is_ this? Because it seems to me that you brought the girl."

And then Alison realized...and let her temper flare again.

"You've been working with him?!" she exclaimed, looking at Norrington furiously. "To get _me_?!"

"No, that's not--" Norrington began, but Beckett interrupted him, walking closer.

"You're right, Norrington, that's not what it is," he said, raising his voice over Norrington and Alison's arguing. The pair turned toward him, Alison looking furious and alarmed, Norrington looking desperate.

"Allow me to explain," Beckett continued in his sickeningly calm manner. "I told Miss Connors I would arrest her if she didn't bring you to me. I told ex-Commodore Norrington I would give him his job back if he brought you to me," he said, looking at Norrington, then Alison. "Yes, it seems Mr. Norrington wasn't below jumping through hoops for me to get his old job back," Beckett said arrogantly, a smile spreading across his face.

"I didn't come here to bring her to you," Norrington spat bitterly. "Believe me, there's no good reason I would ever want to come within 10 feet of you."

"Same for me," Alison said, cocking her head to the side slightly and glaring at Beckett through narrowed eyes. "But the truth is, you're so short that I doubt I'd be able to see you if you weren't within 10 feet of me...that is, unless the moon reflected off that ridiculous piece of fluff that you call a wig."

"Charming," Beckett said, his smile only fading slightly from his face. "But I'm afraid I'm not in the mood for witty banter. You see, now that I have both of you here, it will be even easier than I thought to have you both under my control."

"What do you want with us?" Alison said defensively.

Beckett sighed, as if relating all the details of his evil plan was tiring. "You are both very strong, very influential people," he said. "All the better to lock you up, don't you think?"

"You think we're a threat to your power?" Norrington asked incredulously, taking Beckett's meaning.

"Ah, I wouldn't say that," Beckett said, his smile reappearing. "It's just better to have you out of the way so you won't...rally up any opposition, I suppose."

"What's left to rally? Weatherby Swann is still the rightful governor of Port Royal," Alison said.

"Exactly," Beckett said, smirking. "But with you two here, that's two less people in the way for my men to take him out."

"You're bluffing," Alison said, not daring to believe it.

Beckett shook his head, still smiling. "No...poor Elizabeth is so torn up about her fiance leaving her, do you really think she'll be ready to fight my best men? And those other less than savory characters you travel with...drunk most of the time; they'll be no help. No," Beckett said, allowing himself a little laugh, "Governor Swann will be dead, and with his death, no one will be there to stand up to me."

Alison drew her pistols and pointed them at Beckett. "You should have tried to actually take us out when you had the chance," she said as Norrington drew his own pistol.

Beckett sighed again and clucked his tongue. "Now, Miss Connors, did you really think I'd come here without backup?"

And with that, four menacing-looking men stepped from the shadows along the street behind Beckett, who smirked at Norrington and Alison's alarmed faces.

"Gentlemen, you know what to do," he said, looking highly amused. "Only, try not to make it too bloody--I want to watch."

Alison and Norrington backed up together as Beckett's four cronies advanced, all drawing their own pistols and pointing them at our heros.

"Got a plan to get us out of this one?" Norrington muttered, pointing his gun at each one of the men as if judging which one of them to take out first.

"Other than start shooting?" Alison murmured back, looking up at Norrington and grinning.

He grinned, too. "I like the way you think."

And they started shooting.

Alison was first, and she fired off her pistols one by one at the men. She hit one of them in the leg, but the others had dived out of the way.

Norrington then took his shots, hitting one easily in the arm who had rolled behind a crate and popped out again to fire.

_Two down, two to go,_ Alison thought. _Not including Beckett..._

Suddenly, Norrington barrelled into her, sending her flying into the mud on the side of the street. Landing with an "Oof!", the pair scrambled behind a group of barrels and remained there, panting.

Norrington edged his face around one of the barrels to see where the men were, and he ducked back behind them with a yell as a bullet pierced the wood.

"When did this turn into a western?" Alison asked breathlessly, crouching on her knees to steady herself in the mud.

"A what?"

"Never mind," Alison said as she felt a bullet hit the barrel she was currently crouching behind. Sure enough, she heard the sound of a liquid splashing onto the ground as rum poured out of the hole.

Norrington cupped a hand and thrust it under the miniature waterfall, quickly bringing it back to his face to slurp up the small amount of rum.

"Cheers," he said, winking at Alison and running out from behind the barrel.

Eyes wide, Alison watched as Norrington easily took out one of the henchmen who had been crouching behind a small cart.

"Nice one!" she said as he dove back behind the barrel, dodging bullets that came from the dark.

"Thanks," he said. "Now we just need to find that other one..."

The bullets had stopped, and there was silence but for Norrington's and Alison's labored breathing.

"Guess he ran out of bullets," Alison said, panting slightly.

Norrington poked his head above the barrels, looking around warily for the last man standing--the others, clearly not as tough as they were made out to be, were laying on the ground where they had been hit, writhing in pain.

"No sign of him," Norrington, crouching down again and looking at Alison. "Or of Beckett, for that matter..."

Alison was about to reply when a bullet cracked through the middle barrel of their barricade, whizzing through the wood to send a spray of rum shooting between them.

"I guess he reloaded," Norrington said ironically.

"And I guess he's closer," Alison replied, cocking her head at the hole in the barrel. The other bullet had only peirced one side of the barrel, but this one had gone all the way through.

"Might as well take care of him, then," Norrington said, standing up to face the man.

Wide-eyed, Alison watched as he tried to shoot--and nothing happened.

Norrington looked curiously at his pistol and pulled the trigger, but there was nothing but a small "click!"

"Oh, come _on!_" he said, looking incredibly dejected.

Just as he sat back down to inspect his gun, a bullet whizzed right where his heart would have been.

Alison peered above the barrel and made a guess as to where she thought the bad guy was. She squinted, took steady aim, and fired.

She heard a yelp of pain and let out a whoop of triumph, earning an appreciative laugh from Norrington.

"Aww, I wanted that one," he said, pouting mockingly.

"Hey, come on, that's two for each of us," Alison laughed.

"And two for me," a voice said above them.

Alison and Norrington looked up in unison to see Beckett pointing a pistol down at them from above the barrels.

Beckett chuckled. "I had no idea I'd kill you, after I hired those men to do the job...but here I stand... and if you so much as think about pointing those pistols at me, it will be the last thing you ever do," he said quickly as he saw Alison's hand slowly move for her pistol.

Alison swallowed hard, wondering what to do. She didn't notice that Norrington already had a plan.

"Not that it matters, of course," Beckett continued airily. "Swann is probably already dead, and that just leaves me to deal with you two."

He cocked his pistol. "I'm sorry I couldn't get your job back, James," he said with mock regret. "Even with all those propositions I gave you, you just weren't cut out to get it back."

"I've got a propostion for you," Norrington said, looking up at Beckett.

"Oh, really?" Beckett said, sounding amused. "And what would that be?"

"Go to hell," Norrington said.

And he shoved the barrel Beckett was standing behind with all his might, sending Satan's little helper flying.

Norrington got up quickly to go after him, and Alison followed suit, twirling her pistols anxiously in her hands. She spotted Beckett's pistol on the ground next to his hat, which had been knocked off his head, and kicked it away.

Beckett had escaped the barrel and was now scrambling back from Norrington on his back, his boots scrabbling on the slippery pavement as he tried to pull himself along with his good arm. Norrington was advancing on him slowly, looking like he was thoroughly enjoying seeing one of the men he hated crawl on the ground.

"I could kill you right now, you know," he growled, raising his pistol to point it at Beckett's head. Beckett had gone pale, and Alison could tell he was trying not to lose his cool.

"James...James, please!" he said nervously, still backing up; his cloak scraping the ground, his wig askew.

"Don't do it, James--he's not worth it!" Alison found herself saying.

Both men turned to look at her, looking surprised, and Alison found herself rather caught off guard, too. Sure, she didn't like the man--he had ruined so many lives, after all--but she couldn't bear thinking of Norrington killing him.

"Oh, thank you, thank you," Beckett said breathlessly, but Alison wasn't listening to him. Instead, she was staring hard at James, willing him not to kill this pathetic man.

James was looking at her, too. Then he said: "Since when do you call me 'James'?"

Alison opened her mouth to reply, but Norrington pointed his pistol at Beckett again, whose face seemed to lose all color.

"Don't--!" Alison began, rushing up to James and grabbing his arm.

But he dropped his pistol on Beckett's chest, making him cry out in surprise.

"It's not even loaded, you idiot," James said, sounding even more disgusted by the man blubbering on the ground.

And he stepped over Beckett and walked down the street, Alison by his side.


	10. Chapter 10

After Jack and Monica's encounter with Barbossa, in which he told them he would kill them if they didn't cooperate with him, Monica was feeling quite exhausted. Plus, her wounded arm was giving her hell.

"Jack, it huuuuuuuurts," she whined miserably as he rolled his eyes at her.

"Well, of course it does!" he snapped. He had quickly grown impatient with the girl's incessant moaning.

Monica pouted and inspected the makeshift bandage around her right upper arm, where she had been shot earlier that day. The wound hadn't been that deep, but the pain was almost more than she could handle.

"I'm sorry," she said finally to Jack, who looked surprised not to hear more bitching. "I shouldn't be whining about it...it just hurts like a mother...!"

She grimaced as she accidentally poked the wound in her arm as she attempted to retie the bandage, cursing her clumsy fingers.

"I've never heard that phrase before," Jack said, but he didn't seem surprised. "And I'm not sure it makes sense to me."

"Since when has anything I've said made sense?" Monica asked, forcing a laugh as she tried to refasten her bandage.

Jack took pity on her, perhaps because she apologized. "Let me," he said, crawling from the other end of the brig they were locked in.

Monica hid a smile. "Thanks," she said as Jack removed the bandage to fasten it more firmly in place.

"So, what was it like being in a kraken?" she asked brightly, making Jack look up from redresing her wound incredulously.

"It was..." He frowned, obvioulsy deep in thought. "Nasty," he said, smiling slightly at his word choice.

Monica nodded, smirking. "So how exactly did you get out?"

Jack finished his job and sat on the other side of Monica, who was sitting with her back against the wood of the ship, to make sure he wouldn't bumb her wound if the ship made a sudden lurch. "I already told you," he said, eyebrows raised. "Tia Dalma's ring and sea turtles."

Monica grinned and said, "Oh, come on! You really expect me to believe that? After one of your greatest adventures turned out to be you drinking rum on a beach for three days?"

After frowning slightly at Monica's knowledge of one of his secrets, Jack answered, "Yes," and had no more to say on the subject.

Monica smiled at the thought of her friend inside the kraken, lip curled in frowning bewilderment and hoisting a lantern only to see remains of the Pearl and maybe some dead bodies.

_Wait, where'd he get the lantern?_ Monica found herself asking quizzically. She shook herself slightly and asked a question that had been bugging her for a while now: "So, are you pissed at Elizabeth?"

Jack only looked mildly surprised to hear her brought up. "No," he said thoughtfully. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a little miffed that I had to spend a few days inside a kraken, but I understand her reasoning." He grinned suddenly. "And that kiss helped, too."

Monica rolled her eyes and shook her head, smirking. "Way to go, Jack, thinking with your crotch," she said, glancing up at him to see him look horrified at the phrase.

She only laughed. "Everybody's thinking it; I'm just saying it," she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly.

"Who's everybody?" Jack seemed eager to change the subject.

"Oh...well, besides you and me, pretty much the whole world," Monica said, raising her eyebrows at the thought. "Well, not the _whole_ world. Of course the whole world didn't see the movie. But how would you not want to; I mean, it's awesome! But, you know, there are some little kids and stuff who--"

"Hang on," Jack said, interrupting Monica mid-ramble. "Everyone saw it?"

Monica nodded. "Yeah," she said slowly. "Oh, and Will."

Jack's eyes widened in horror.

"Didn't I already tell you that?" Monica asked, eyebrows raised. "I could have sworn I told you that."

Jack had closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the wall, as if asking whatever deity he believed in to just kill him now.

"So..." Monica said, eager to get off the subject. "Was she a good kisser?"

Monica grinned up at Jack, who looked even more confused at her question. "Now what reason in the world could you possibly have for asking me that?" he asked, shaking his head at her as if trying to fathom the depths of insanity that polluted this girl's mind.

"Hello! She got you eaten by a freakin' kraken!" Monica said. "You were clearly so...preoccupied...that you didn't even notice her chain you to the mast."

"I did notice!" Jack said defensively.

"Really? When? When you were trying to pull your hand out of the irons?" Monica scoffed.

"No, it was...a little earlier..." Jack frowned at Monica's little laugh. "You think that's funny?" he asked incredulously, which only made Monica grin up at him. "I was in a kraken!"

"Oh, so _now_ you make a big deal about it!" Monica exclaimed, smirking. "So obviously she was a good kisser, or else you would have realized what she was doing."

Jack wasn't about to give up yet. "Well, she was a better kisser than you," he muttered.

"Hey, you caught me off guard!" Monica spluttered, her face redding at the memory of the time she and Jack had kissed--twice.

It was Jack's turn to scoff. "Actually, I believe that first one was _your_ idea," he said, smirking.

"Aww, come on, I thought I was about to leave!" Monica said, furious to notice that her blush wasn't going away. "It's what any girl would've done!"

Jack's eyebrows raised slightly in interest. "Really?" he asked, casting a sidelong glance at Monica, who nodded earnestly.

Jack said nothing, but let a satisfied smile light up his face. Monica let out a small, relieved breath, pleased that Jack's pride had made him forget the subject.

_Although, to be fair, I was the one who brought it up,_ she thought, staring into space. _With the Elizabeth thing and all..._

She was brought back to reality by a sharp pain in her arm. "Jeez," she muttered, glaring down at it as if it were a person annoying her, not a wound.

"It's not fun getting shot, is it?" Jack asked knowingly.

"No, it's a real picnic," Monica said darkly, tucking a loose piece of bandage back into the wrap.

"Tell me about it," Jack muttered.

Monica suddenly remembered the deleted scene from The Curse of the Black Pearl: when Jack had showed Elizabeth many old wounds on his chest and arms when they were marooned. She mentally kicked herself.

"Jack, I'm sorry again I've been complaining," she said quickly, feeling like an idiot. "I know that to you, this can't be that bad..."

Monica trailed off, now wondering if it had been painful for Jack that she had brought up, well, painful memories.

"But thank you for putting up with it," she said lamely, still avoiding looking up at him. "I know I'm annoying."

A sigh from Jack. She sighed as well, and then she realized how tired she was.

"I just think it's nice to have someone who cares about you," she said softly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Closing her eyes, she felt Jack gently press his cheek into her hair.

Monica woke up from a sharp pain from the wound in her arm as she snuggled deeper into the blanket and hugged the pillow tighter.

_What the..._ she thought dazedly before she opened her eyes. When she did, she felt confused for a moment as to where she was.

She realized she was laying on the ground of the brig, and the pillow and blanket she had thought she had were actually Jack's hat and jacket, respectively.

_I must have rolled over on my arm in my sleep,_ she thought drowsily, propping herself up on her forearm.

Suddenly she felt a jolt to her back, and she gasped and jumped to roll over, wondering what it had been.

Jack had kicked her gently in his sleep. He was lying stretched out almost the whole length of the brig, and as he rolled over his boot had nudged Monica's back.

Monica sat up and grinned at the sight of a sleeping Jack, sliding his jacket on her shoulders and placing the hat on her head. She then giggled at the thought of her almost in a Jack costume, but then stifled it for fear of waking him. But it didn't matter, as he was waking up anyway.

"Good morning, sunshine!" Monica said groggily as Jack sat up, frowning and rubbing his eyes. When he opened them again, he realized Monica was wearing his jacket and hat.

"Give me that!" he said grumpily, reaching toward her drowsily.

"Sorry," Monica said sheepishly, taking off his stuff. "Not a morning person, eh?" she asked, grinning as he put his jacket and hat back on.

Jack didn't reply, but made a great deal out of checking his pockets to make sure nothing was missing. Monica rolled her eyes at his behavior.

Suddenly, there was a thumping on the stairs, and Jack and Monica turned in unison to see Pintel and Ragetti holding plates of food, looking to be bickering as usual.

"I still say we shouldn't feed 'em!" Pintel was saying as he arrived in front of Jack and Monica's prison.

"But we need to," Ragetti said earnestly. "The cap'n says they have to be strong to work on the ship and whatnot."

"They're not doin' any workin'!" Pintel yelled furiously.

"Well, what the cap'n wants us to do, we do," Ragetti said, looking a little admonished at Pintel's yells (hey, that rhymed!).

Pintel gave in to muttering as he pulled a ring of keys from his pocket and began fiddling with them, handing off his plate to Ragetti, who juggled it for a bit before dropping it.

Pintel groaned angrily as Ragetti apologized profusely. Monica and Jack glanced at each other, but their gazes snapped back to the terrible twosome as they wondered what to do with the plates.

"Cap'n wants 'em fed," Ragetti kept saying in a high-pitched voice no matter how much he looked away from Pintel's yelling. His false eye seemed to be stuck--it wasn't looking down like the other one--and it seemed to be trained on Monica, making her feel a little queasy.

After much arguing, the two pirates decided to go up above deck again and bring some more food.

"So how are we going to escape?" Jack asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Monica was slightly taken aback by Jack's quick response, thinking he would say something about they incompetence of Pintel and Ragetti. "Uh...got anything we can pick the lock with?" Her eyes alighted to the bone thingy he had in his hair.

Frowning intently at it, she moved closer, snatching it before Jack could get away.

"What the--" Jack tried to smack her hands away, but she continued fiddling with the bone.

"Shut up! We don't have much time before they get back," Monica said urgently, grimacing as she tried to pry the bone from its place in Jack's hair.

"What? Don't use that!" Jack exclaimed as she finally got it free.

"What's the big deal? It's just a bone," Monica said, but she knew there must be more to it than that--why else would he have tied it in his hair?

"That is the shinbone of a reindeer," Jack said.

Monica stared at him.

"I don't even want to know," she muttered.

Jack looked dejected. "Fine, use it," he said, sighing. "But let me do it!"

The pair moved to the door of thier cell, and Jack stuck the bone into the keyhole, moving it around experimentally.

"Let me try!" Monica said as several nerve-racking minutes passed.

"Sorry, love, but I think I have a little more experience in this area than you do," Jack said, squinting at the bone as he tried to jam it farther in the keyhole.

"Well, you should at least let me try--" Monica was cut off by the sounds of their crewmates coming back down the stairs. Jack yanked the bone from the keyhole and sat back against the wall as Monica scooted back to the middle of the cell, trying to look nonchalant.

Pintel eyed them suspiciously as he unlocked the door, this time trusting the plate with his own hands. Monica smiled weakly at him, but he only glared at her as he dropped the plate down in front of her. Behind her, Ragetti did the same with Jack and his plate.

Once they were gone again, both Jack and Monica made a dash for the door, the bone already out and ready to go...okay, that sounded kind of wrong.

But the only thing they got done was a lot of bickering. Each time one of them had the bone, the other was telling him or her how they should do it.

Finally, Jack gave up, leaving the bone in the keyhole and sitting back against the wall, crossing his arms and grumbling to himself.

Monica grabbed hold of the bone and shook it furiously, making a face that seemed to be somewhere between a frown and a grimace.

"It's never going to work," Jack said from his place behind her.

Monica gave the bone a last shake before letting go, slumping in front of the door dejectedly. She rested her head against the bars, staring at the stupid bone in the stupid keyhole.

"You got any better ideas?" she asked, scooting back next to Jack, who seemed to be thinking.

"That pirate had the keys, right?" he asked, frowning into space.

"Yeah," Monica said, remembering Pintel taking the keys from his pocket. "But how are we gonna get 'em from him?"

"Good question," Jack said, but he didn't volunteer any ideas.

"We can't ambush them when they come in here; they're armed...so can we get them out there? But how do we know he'll have them on him? And what if we're caught?" Monica, thinking aloud, didn't notice Jack's apparent surprise at the continual use of the word "we".

She only realized Jack's feelings until she saw him smirking to himself. "What?" she asked, confused.

"What makes you think _we_ will do any of this together?" he asked, smirking as if this idea were ridiculous.

"I thought--" Monica began, but Jack cut her off.

"We don't have to do everything in pairs, you know," Jack said.

Monica nodded. "I know," she said. I just..." But she trailed off, and she realized she didn't have a good answer.

"This was your idea, so I think you should carry it out," Jack said quickly, and Monica got the feeling he was trying not to upset her.

"Okay," she said. "But I might need some help."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "You have a plan to get out?" he asked dubiously.

"I think I can get out, maybe above deck...then it's just a matter of finding the keys...and not getting killed in the process, of course," Monica said.

Jack nodded, seeming unfazed by the comment she had added. "So what's the plan?"

"Okay, I thought of this earlier when we couldn't get the friggin' bone to work. I thought if we each had a chance to work on it ourselves, we'd have more of a chance to get free, right? Of course, I didn't know what we'd use if one of us had to use something other than the bone...anyway, I had to think about how to get separated into different cells--"

"Are you going to get to the point anytime soon?"

"Maybe if I weren't interrupted! So, I think if we got in a fight or something, they'd separate us?"

Monica looked apprehensively up at Jack, hoping for approval of her idea.

"Well, what are we waiting for, then?" Jack asked before punching her in the face.

Monica's face swung around, more out of shock than the blow of the punch. She brought a hand up to her nose and wasn't too surprised to see blood on it when she brought it back.

"What the hell?!" She screeched, whirling on Jack, keeping a hand up to stem the flow of lood coming from her nose.

"What? It's part of the plan!" Jack said, clearly thinking he had done nothing wrong.

"I meant _stage_ a fight, you idiot!" Monica yelled, shoving him in the shoulder.

With that, Jack shoved Monica backwards, knocking her on her back. He soon followed, landing on top of her and pinning her arms to her sides.

"Get off!!" Monica screamed, knowing that if someone heard her screams, they would come down and surely separated them.

But she was still a bit ticked that Jack had punched her.

She tried to wrench her arm away from his grip, but he had a firm hold on her wrist, which seemed to amuse him greatly. She groaned in frustration and tried to wiggle her way out from under him, but to no avail, which made Jack outright laugh at her.

Soon enough, all three of the other pirates on the ship came running down, looking pretty confused to see the two people they thought were good friends wrestling on the ground--well, more like Monica trying to beat up Jack while he still held her arms.

"Get him offa me!" Monica screamed angrily.

Pintel fumbled with the keys, looking bewildered that the two of them were fighting. Once the door to the brig was opened, Barbossa grabbed Jack and hauled him unceremoniosly off of Monica, flinging him to the side of the cell and lifting up Monica by the front of her shirt.

"Whoo!" Monica said as Barbossa released her, brushing the dirt off her clothes. "Thanks for that, mate," she said, grinning at Barbossa.

"What in the blazes is goin' on here?!" Barbossa asked furiously.

"He tried to kill me!" Monica said, pointing an accusing finger at Jack.

"You deserved it!" Jack said from the other side of the cell.

"Oh, don't gimme that crap, asshole!" Monica retorted, moving to attack him again, but she was stopped by Barbossa, who flung out an arm to catch her in the chest.

"You, lock him up," Barbossa growled, nodding at Pintel and then at Jack. "And you, come with me and her."

Monica then found herself being pulled along by Ragetti, who was following Barbossa out of the brig, up the stairs, and above deck.

Monica squinted and blocked the sun with the arm that wasn't currently being squeezed by Ragetti as he dragged her along. She hadn't realized how used to the dimness of the brig she had gotten in the time she had spent there.

Barbossa flung open the door to the captain's quarters and moved aside, watching Ragetti haul Monica into the room. When they were both inside, Barbossa took Monica's arm and shoved her into a chair, placing his hand son the arm of the chair and leaning over her.

"What happened?" he growled, looking furious.

"What're you yellin' at me for? He just freakin' attacked me!" Monica said angrily, using the time with her hands free to wipe a trickle of blood from her nose.

"Answer the question!" Barbossa barked as Pintel entered the room, exchanging a nervous glance with Ragetti.

Monica shrunk back into her chair, unsure of what to do. Should she keep up the act, or simply tell the truth? She knew there was no way she and Jack would tell the same story.

So she decided to go with the truth.

Letting a grin spread across her face, she said, "Aww, we were just screwin' with ya!"

She pushed Barbossa away so she could get out of the chair. Barbossa first looked shocked at Monica's reply, then at the fact that she had actually pushed him.

"You see, guys, we only did that so I could get out and get in a different cell so we could each try and break out," Monica said, walking to the other side of the room and turning around to face the pirates. "But I guess that doesn't really matter anyway, because we can't get the bloody bone to work..."

She said this last part partly to herself, frowning, then raised a hand to wipe some more blood trickling from her nose.

"Jackass," she muttered, thinking of Jack. "Any of you dudes got anything I can stop this up with?"

She looked up at the three pirates to see them staring at her, dumbfounded.

"Okay, guess not," Monica said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. "So! How 'bout that new cell, huh? 'Cause even though we weren't fighting for real, I'm a bit ticked about my nose. Plus, he smells funny."

Barbossa jerked his head at Pintel and Ragetti toward the door. Since Monica was on the other side of the room, she didn't make it to the door before Barbossa slammed it behind them.

"I'll just chill in here, then," Monica called.

She plopped down into a chair and propped her booted feet up onto the table, closing her eyes and sighing.

_Man, no matter how short or long time you spend in a cell, it always comes back to bite you in the ass, musclewise,_ she thought. _Literally._

She was shifting in the chair, trying to find a position where her butt wasn't threatening to go numb, when Barbossa threw the doors open again.

"Back to the brig," he said, narrowing his eyes at her.

"Not to the same cell, though, right?" Monica said, getting to her feet and making her way to the door. "Because, I'm not gonna lie, that days-old kraken spit stench that seems to be Jack's cologne is really starting to get to me."

As she paused at the door, raising her eyebrows at Pintel to see if he was going to grab her and pull her along, he swept his arm through the door to indicate that she could walk through first.

After nodding at him in thanks, smiling, she continued: "I mean, really! Would you want to stay in the same cell as the guy who just punched you in the nose? I don't think so!"

By this time she was down the stairs and making her way for the brig, knowing it would be pointless for her to try and escape, with the pirates right behind her.

But were they all right behind her? She turned to have a look.

No one. Not even Pintel, she realized...

"Frick!" she said, remembering her plan to lift the keys off of him.

Cursing her forgetfulness, she continued her way to the brig, knowing that if she turned back now, she was just bound to run into one of them again--and she couldn't guarantee that it would be Pintel. Assuming he still had the keys, of course.

Anyway, she didn't get very far.

An arm wrapped forcefully around her waist, making her jump backward in surprise as another hand tried to cover her mouth. But her little jumped had caused her to unwittingly stamp on her assailant's foot, making him howl in pain and nearly smack Monica in the face with his other arm,

Monica reacted to the arm in her face lightning fast--she chomped down on it.

Another howl of pain, and the arm was sharply pulled away, and the other one was released from her waist. She whirled around to see Pintel hopping on one foot and cradling his arm, clearly not knowing which one hurt the most.

"What the--" Monica began. What the hell was he doing?? Why was he attacking her when she was heading back to the brig like a good prisoner?

But she didn't get to voice her opinions, because the next thing she saw was the broad side of an oar flying into her face, making a THUD as it came into contact with the side of her head.

Monica dreamt of something she hadn't dreamt of in a long time, but something she had dreamt of for a long one when she had been dreaming of it. Wait a minute, is "dreamt" even a word? Or is it "dreamed"? Whatever, on with the dream.

She was walking slowly along a beach, her hands behind her back. The beach was grey--well, the day was overcast, but not with dark clouds, but with enought cover so that the sun wasn't visible throught the grey clouds. This caused the sand and the water to look darker, the water looking almost ominous and the sand looking dull.

She was wearing a grey dress. It was like the one Elizabeth had worn at Norrington's promotion in The Curse of the Black Pearl, she guessed; she wasn't entirely sure--the dress wasn't what she was focused on. But it did have a freakin' tight corset, pulling in her waist into quite an uncomfortable shape and, to her slight embarrassment, making her boobs look the size of Texas.

Anyway, she walked slowly along the edge of the water, sometimes in it, but the dress didn't get wet. She watched it darken as the faint mist of the waves hit it, but they always faded away.

So she kept walking--still slowly, hands still clasped behind her back. Until she looked up. She didn't see anything to make her look up, but she sensed he was there.

Jack. He was standing in front of her, looking slightly depressedly at the ground. She looked up at him, but didn't say anything.

When he looked up at her, that was all they did--look at each other. No, not just looking--seeing...actually seeing each other.

She took in all of him, and he took in all of her. He wasn't wearing his jacket despite the slight chill of the cool mist spraying from the water every now and then. It was nowhere in sight, actually.

When they were done looking somberly at each other, things returned to normal. Monica realized that Jack's eyes seemed to be straying to her chest reason a bit more than was necessary.

She rolled her eyes, dropping her hands to her sides. "Quit starin' at my boobs, you freakin' perv."

Jack smirked a little. "Sorry," he said, not looking sorry at all.

He turned to face the beach and sat down right behind the edge of the tide, watching the waves slide up the sand to stop at his crossed legs.

Monica walked along to his other side, remaining on her feet. They stared out at the ocean for a moment, although not much was visible through the mist. Then Monica broke the silence.

"This is what would happen to me if you died, Jack," she said.

"Well, that's good, then," Jack said, still staring at the ocean. "You look pretty well off. Isn't that what you wanted?"

She smacked him in the back of the head. "No, you idiot," she said, peeved, sitting down beside him as he pouted and brought a hand to the back of his head. "I want to be free! You think I can be free in some fancy house wearing these stupid fancy clothes?"

"I know one thing you can be in those clothes, love..." Jack began, the smirk returning to his face as he glanced slyly over at her.

"Don't get fresh with me!"

"Right. Sorry." His eyes snapped back to the ocean, but he didn't say anything.

Neither of them spoke for a while, in fact. But Monica was the one to speak over the soothing sound of the waves breaking gently upon the beach.

"Don't die, Jack. I need you."

Then, in the dream, they usually started making out. Except for that one time, where the Phantom of the Opera came wading out of the ocean and struck up a conversation between the three of them. But this time, Jack turned to Monica, looking quite serious, and began to say something. From the way he was looking at her, she knew it was important.

And then she woke up.

She kept her eyes closed for a moment, willing the dream to continue, but all she achieved were a few images she had already seen. Sighing dejectedly, she opened her eyes.

Bright sunlight struck her, making her groan slightly and close her eyes. She moved a hand toward her face to block the sun.

Except she couldn't.

Her eyes flew open, squinting against the sunlight that seemed twice as harsh after her overcast dream. She closed them again, cursing softly, and tried to wiggle her hands and feet.

They could barely move! She realized her hands were bound behind her back and her ankles were tied together.

She was laying on her side, fortunately the side with the arm that hadn't been wounded, on something hard...and was it moving?

She recognized the sway of a boat in the ocean.

"Oh, _shit_," she muttered, at last prying her eyes open.

She looked above her head to see Pintel sitting on the bench above her, her head between his feet.

She squinted down past her bound feet to see Ragetti sitting on the other bench.

Monica let out a load groan. "I didn't _do_ anything!" she whined.

"Captain's orders!" Pintel said cheerily, rowing away. Clearly, he was pleased that the girl who had assaulted him was tied up at his feet. "He's got some plans for you."

"Fantastic!" Monica said in a falsely cheery voice. "And what do these plans include?"

"Well--"

"We're not supposed to tell!" Monica heard Ragetti say--she didn't look, as it hurt to look up at either of the two pirates.

"You really think he'll find out?" Pintel sneered. "What do you think she'll do if she knows the plan?"

"Escape," Ragetti said in a small voice.

Pintel laughed between rows. "Now you're overestimatin' her! We can take her!"

"Don't flatter yourself, buddy," Monica said from the bottom of the longboat.

"What--!" Pintel tried to kick her head.

"Hey!" Monica looked up and glared at him.

"You're not supposed to hurt her!" Ragetti said fearfully.

Pintel groaned and rolled his eyes. "The cap'n told us to take her to the island and not to tell her anythin'; now he's not here, so I can tells her what I wants!"

"Island?" Monica asked, horrified. "You're gonna maroon me??"

"Look what you did!" Ragetti said. "Now Cap'n Barbossa's gonna find out--"

"He won't find out, because there'll be no one to tell him!" Pintel said menacingly.

"You _are_ gonna maroon me!" Monica cried.

"Well, of course we are!" Pintel said, grunting slightly as he rowed and carried on the conversation. "Barbossa told us to!"

"Why do you even listen to him, anyway?" Monica said quickly, seeing a window. "Why not follow Jack as your captain?"

This time it was Ragetti's turn to laugh. "Barbossa came back to life," he said, as if this answer were very obvious. "That makes him more powerful."

"Well, Jack came back from the kraken, and you're not kissing _his_ ass!" Monica said.

"We went looking for Jack under Barbossa, who was the captain of or ship at the time," Pintel said, referring to the Jolly Roger. "So he's still our captain."

When the two pirates didn't continue, Monica took a chance.

"You're afraid of him, aren't you?"

Pintel dropped one of his oars and would have lost it to the sea if he hadn't grabbed it at the last moment. Ragetti jumped a little, but swallowed hard.

"I'm not afraid of him," he said, obviously trying to sound brave. "Are you?"

"No!" Pintel said, a little too defensively.

Monica smirked at the side of the boat. "Right," she said, making it clear through her tone that she didn't believe them. "Sorry, Mister Don't-Let-The-Captain-Find-Out."

Ragetti stammered for a moment, trying to come up with a reply, earning a derisive laugh from Pintel.

"Oi!"

"Oi what?"

"Don't you snigger at me!"

"I wasn't sniggerin'"

And so ensued an argument between the two of them, Pintel still rowing furiously while hurling insults at Ragetti while he tried to hold his own.

"Great," Monica muttered from her place on the floor of the longboat. "Barbossa gave me a black eye, Jack gave me a bloody nose, and now you two are gonna give me an ulcer!"

While Ragetti was leaning forward to earnestly continue the argument with his friend, Monica lifted her bound feet from the floor, drew them back, and kicked Ragetti in the stomach.

He slid backward off his bench, landing with surprise in a pile of rope. Pintel let out a yell and drew his pistol, dropping the oars.

Just as he was about to shoot her in the face, Monica rolled out of the way. Well, it wasn't really a roll, as there wasn't enough room, but she did acheive a small flop to make Pintel shoot the bottom of the boat a few times.

Ragetti recovered quickly from his blow to the stomach and sat on her legs, ensuring that she wasn't able to do any more damage, being bound the way she was.

"Now you--" Pintel began, brandishing his pistol at Monica.

But all three of them were distracted by water flowing into the hole Pintel had shot into the bottom of the boat.

Monica's eyes widened as the water pooled close to her face, and she lifted her head up in alarm.

"Cheap thing!" Pintel yelled angrily, kicking the side of the boat.

Although the hole wasn't big, the water was entering fast. Because Pintel had shot his pistol relatively close to the bottom of the boat, the bullet had gone through, and now Pintel's yelling and stamping around wasn't helping the hole get any smaller.

Pintel grabbed the front of Monica's shirt and sat her on his bench to keep her from drowning.

"Now what?" Monica asked, staring at the water seeping across the floor of the boat.

"Now we get to land," Pintel said.

Monica looked to her left and saw a beach. Looking to her right, she saw the Jolly Roger far off in the distance.

Being in the bottom of the boat, she hadn't realized how close to land they had been.

Ragetti cut Monica's bonds and then practically shoved her out of the boat, making her trip on the side of it with an "oof!", which in turn made her fall flat on her face in the foot-deep water.

As she spluttered and shook her head to get her wet hair out of her face, she heard the two pirates laughing behind her. Grumbling to herself, she got up and made her way up to the sand.

Pintel and Ragetti were still laughing as they set foot on the beach, imitating Monica's fall and her "oof".

"Why are you laughing? We're stuck here," Monica said, disgruntled by the two pirates making fun of her.

Their chuckles finally died off and they turned around to face the boat, which was beached in the wet sand, more water entering it with every wave.

The three of them glanced at each other in turn--first Monica to Pintel, then Pintel to Ragetti, then Ragetti to Monica again--and promptly started yelling at each other all at once.


	11. Chapter 11

Sitting on the floor of the laundry room, Michelle began to panic. She hadn't known that dying in the dryer world would bring her back to her normal one.

But was it her actual world?

Michelle didn't wait to find out. She knew that with every second that passed in her world, a much, much longer amount of time passed in the Pirates world. And because she had left Will battling Davy Jones, she wasn't willing to take any chances.

She flung open the dryer door and shoved her head in, panting in anxiety.

Nothing happened.

Michelle drew her head from the barely-dry load of clothes in the dryer, nearly frantic now.

_What the hell am I supposed to--_

She saw a sock on the ground.

She only stared at it for a few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity as thoughts flew through her mind.

_What is that doing there? I'm sure it wasn't here before! There was a sock on the ground when the load first started, but Monica picked it up...that's when she opened the dryer...and then we were sucked through...so the dryer needs an article of clothing to be added to it to work...?_

Michelle threw the sock in and dove in after it.

This time, she was relieved to see the light and feel herself flying upward.

She closed her eyes tightly, fighting off the swoon she was sure would come if she actually thought about what was happening to her. Only when the light seemed to dim from the other side of her eyelids and the whooshing seemed to die down did she open her eyes.

She managed to look down in time to see the deck of a ship flying up towards her.

Michelle threw out her arms for balance and landed, crouching down in a fluid movement. Her eyes wide, she remained still for a moment, waiting for the echo of the whooshing to leave her ears and for her eyes to adjust to the dark.

Yes, it was dark, she realized. Only a bit past twilight.

Rising slowly, she looked around, peering into the night. She knew she was on the deck of a ship by the few lanterns, the smell of the sea, and the heaving of the floor beneath her. But which ship was she on?

In her observations, Michelle had only taken in a few barrels before she heard voices.

She immediately darted behind the barrels, which shielded her from anyone who happened to walk by, keeping her hidden between them and the side of the ship.

Peeking between two of the barrels, she watched intently for the speakers, trying to steady her heavy breathing so they wouldn't hear her.

"Did you lock up the boy?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Did he put up a fight?"

A laugh from the second voice. "No, sir; not after what you did to him!"

"Aye, I thought not."

Michelle's eyes widened in horror as Davy Jones and one of the Flying Dutchman's crewmates lurched past, Jones clunking every other step with his peg leg, the other looking bizarre with the head of a hammerhead shark.

A hammerhead shark with eyes on either side of its head.

Michelle moved silently behind the biggest barrel, fearing that the eye closest to her would spot her. When she was crouched behind the barrel, she held a hand over her mouth to keep her from breathing too loudly.

"Did you get the heart back, Captain?" Hammerhead was asking.

"Not yet," Jones replied. "I haven't searched the boy yet...I want him to suffer."

"But Captain, if he doesn't have it--"

"We'll just keep looking!" Jones shouted, brandishing his crab arm menacingly.

Michelle watched as Hammerhead nodded and went upstairs to take over at the helm. Davy Jones, however, disappeared downstairs.

Michelle listened hard to make sure there was no one else coming before shifting to a more comfortable position behind the barrels, leaning against the side of the ship. This also gave her a slight view of the ship, giving her some warning if someone were to approach silently.

_Think,_ she kept telling herself, but her mind seemed blank with fear. What could she possibly do to save Will against the crew of the Flying Dutchman?

_Will._ The thought of him, weak in a cell somewhere on the ship, made Michelle determined to take action.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to think--not of Davy Jones and his crew (and what they could do to her if they found her), but how she could save Will.

_How can I possibly find him?_ Michelle wondered, taking a deep breath to calm herself. _Locked in the brig...that's got to be below deck somewhere. But how am I supposed to get down there without being seen?_

She could see the entryway that Jones had just walked through quite a ways down the ship.

_Should I go down there?_ she found herself wondering, shifting into a more comfortable crouching position. _What if he went down there to--hurt Will?_

As soon as the thought of Will popped into her head, she immediately felt braver.

_He may be Davy freaking Jones, but I've got talent,_ she thought determinatedly, feeling around at her sides for her swords.

After a moment of groping, she realized with slight panic that they weren't there. Looking down, Michelle discovered that she was back in her 21st century clothes--the ones she had been wearing when she had first been transported through the dryer.

She stared down at her orange University of Texas T-shirt and jean shorts, her mind blanking for a moment.

_Great, no shoes!_ she thought, grimacing as she wiggled her toes to feel the wet deck beneath her.

Exhaling, Michelle stared at the entryway, carefully estimating the distance to it from her hiding place behind the barrels.

_Okay, seems about 40 yards,_ she thought, her track runner's mind immediately coming into play. _Not as much as I'd like; it's hard to get my momentum up...but I'm not on varsity track at UT for nothing..._

She stretched her position, bringing her left leg back behind her and pulling her right up front. It was quite difficult in the small space she was in, but somehow she managed...perhaps it was her determination to save her friend.

Placing her hands on the deck, her fingers splayed slightly, she imagined the starter's voice...

_On your mark, get set..._

BANG!

Michelle bolted at the noise, terrified--that gunshot hadn't been in her head!

She sprinted toward the entryway, fear helping to lift her feet even farther on her already impressive long strides. As she neared the entryway, she saw Hammerhead racing down the stairs ahead of her, letting out a yell at seeing an eighteen-year-old girl running across the deck of the Flying Dutchman in extremely odd clothing. Well, odd to him, at least.

Eyes wide, she skidded to a halt, nearly falling as her bare feet slipped on the wet deck, and turned around, only to see another of the crewmembers coming up behind her.

She ran through the door, hearing the two bad guys close behind her, surprising her with their speed. She heard a sickening THUD and knew the two had slammed into each other while trying to follow her through the doorway.

Michelle stopped short as she entered the door, slamming herself up against the wall next to it.

When Hammerhead and his buddy followed, she slammed the former in the face with a barnacle-covered oar she had found, making him smack into the latter once again as his whole body was knocked back with the impact.

Michelle wasted no time in driving the oar into Hammerhead's stomach, pushing the two bad guys back out side. She gave the crusty oar another hard jab and the second sea-man was jammed into the side of the ship.

Michelle smacked Hammerhead in the side of the face, kocking him off to the right into a group of crates. She thrust the oar into the chest of the second guy, who yelled with surprise and toppled over backwards into the churning sea.

Michelle turned quickly and dashed back into the door, creeping carefully into the shadows. She knew Hammerhead was coming...

...and there he was. He came into the door, growling madly, eyes glaring into the dark room for the girl.

As he advanced further into the room, Michelle crept around behind him.

"Hey!" she said loudly. Hammerhead turned, growling viciously, drawing a sword.

"Look at my thumb," Michelle said, calmly giving him a thumbs-up.

Confused, Hammerhead glanced at her thumb.

Michelle slammed his head with the oar.

"Gee, you're dumb," she said, quite pleased with herself.

Cringing at the sound of the thud as the bad guy hit the ground, Michelle gripped the oar tighter and stepped over his body--but his hand shot out and siezed her ankle.

With a yank of his arm, Michelle fell to the ground, to surprised to make a noise. Hammerhead didn't loosen his grip on her leg, though he seemed quite disoriented by the oar to the face.

Fortunately, Michelle hadn't lost her hold on the oar, either.

With a grunt, she brought it over her head and managed to smack the guy hard in the stomach.

This did it--his hands flew to his stomach as he groaned, trying to grab the oar.

Michelle scrambled back, swung the oar around, and hit him in the head again.

This time, the SMACK she heard satisfied him that she was out cold.

Breathing hard, she stood up, leaning on the oar a bit for support. She experimentally poked the guy's shoulder, but there was no reaction.

Michelle wanted to celebrate at her victory over one of Davy Jones' crewmembers while she was armed only with an oar, but she knew she had to move on. Someone would have undoubtedly heard the little scuffle, and she still didn't know where the gunshot had come from.

She moved on, now feeling extremely paranoid. She tried to keep a firm grip on the oar, but her palms were sweaty, and the crusty barnacles had cut into her hands with every swing, sending little rivulets of blood trickling down her wrists.

At the next doorway, she stopped and waited beside the door, listening carefully. She didn't hear anything.

_Wait..._

Someone was coughing inside the next room.

_Will!_ she thought automatically, but reason told her to wait and see if there was anyone else in the room.

Reason served her well.

She heard a thump and a step. And another. Thump-step, thump-step...

"Did you really think you could shoot me, Turner?" she heard Davy Jones say mockingly. "You cannot kill the sea!"

There was no reply from Will. Nearly panicking, Michelle peeked her head around the doorway.

Her blood ran cold as she made out Will's form lying on the ground in a cell. She nearly panicked as she thought of how hurt he could be. As she watched, Jones crouched down to Will's level.

"I will find that heart, Turner," he hissed. "And when I do, neither you nor your friends be left alive!"

"Well, here's one friend you haven't met yet."

Jones' head whipped around to see a young woman standing in the doorway, an elbow atop a barnacle-encrusted oar like it was some kind of giant, crusty pimp stick; the other placed confidently on her hip.

Jones simply stared at her. She would have been pleased if she weren't so freakin' scared.

She saw Will feebly try to lift his head from the ground, and this snapped her mind back to her goal.

But before she could do anything, Jones was rushing at her.

She instinctively swung the oar in front of her, ready to fight, but it didn't help much--Jones seized the thin rod of the oar in his claw hand and snapped it cleanly in half.

Not missing a beat, Michelle pulled her half of the oar out of the claw and brought it back, fully prepared to jab the squid-man in the stomach. But he surprised her with his incredible speed yet again.

He had thrown his claw around her neck, pushing her up against the wall and grabbing the oar half out of her hand as her eyes widened in shock and fear.

The last thing Michelle saw before she blacked out was Davy Jones' furious face, grimacing slightly as he tightened his grip around her throat.

Michelle awoke with a start, a sense of uneasiness that had building inside of her finally awakening her from her unconscious state. As her eyes snapped open, she looked around warily, remembering what had happened.

She sat up abruptly, wincing slightly as her head pounded. She brought a hand up to her throat and rubbed it gently. Luckily, she didn't feel any cuts from Jones' ragged claw.

Looking around, she saw that she was in a cell.

_Perfect,_ she thought darkly. _Some rescue mission._

Peering around her new inhabitance by the light of only a dim lantern, Michelle didn't see anything of interest. She couldn't help wondering what Jones had done with her oar--and if he had discovered that she had knocked one of his crewmates out and another of them overboard.

She heard a groan from the other side of the room. Cautiously, Michelle moved to the front of her cell to investigate.

As her eyes adjusted to the dark of the brig, she could just make out Will's form. Again.

"Will!" she said desperately.

Another groan. Stricken, Michelle held her breath, anxiously wrapping her hands around the bars of her cell.

"Michelle?" he asked, slowly getting up. It looked like a real effort. As he crawled to the front of his cell, which was opposite Michelle's, his face moved into the dull light.

Michelle gasped. There was a long, deep gash from tracing its way across the right side of his face from the bridge of his nose down to his jaw.

Will didn't seem to notice her concern. "Michelle! What--how did you--"

Michelle was confused for a moment, thinking he had seen some wound on her or something...but then she remembered that Will had seen her fatally stab herself.

"The dryer," she said simply, shrugging slightly. "But it doesn't matter--what did they do to you? Are you hurt very badly? Oh, of course you are, you're still bleeding--"

"Michelle, why are you here? And how are you not hurt?" Will asked anxiously.

Michelle smiled exasperatedly and realized that they wouldn't get anywhere if they didn't start answering each other's questions.

"Listen, I went through the dryer again, and I was unhurt," she began to explain hurriedly. "So I came back through again--"

"Why? You could've been safe!" Will exclaimed.

"I came back to save you!" Michelle said. "But...obviously that's not going so well..."

She sighed dejectedly and dropped her hands from the bars. "I can't do anything right," she said sadly. "I tried to help you find Davy Jones--I wanted to help you save your father...and all I've managed to do is get locked up. I'm useless."

"Don't say that," Will said gently. "You've saved me."

"What?" Michelle said dejectedly, giving a scoffing laugh.

"I needed to see you again," Will said. "When you stabbed yourself, I--"

He stopped short, as if saying this hurt him. As he opened his mouth to speak again, Michelle interrupted him.

"Don't," she said, smiling ruefully. "I know."

Will gazed intently at her for a moment. Then a grateful look began to spread across his face.

"Thanks," he said, and Michelle had to chuckle. Will wasn't much different from any man--he found it difficult to express his feelings.

_Except with Elizabeth,_ a tiny voice said in Michelle's head.

_He loves Elizabeth,_ Michelle thought, the voice of reason and balance much larger than that small one of envy and resentment.

_Not you._

_Damn that small voice!_

Will was speaking. Michelle glanced up and focused on his voice.

"...and, forgive me for asking, but...what are you wearing?" he was saying.

Michelle flashed a grin at him and made the Longhorn sign with her hand. "Hook 'em horns?" she asked tentatively, bobbing her hand forward and back.

Will stared.

Michelle laughed at his bewildered face, but she was cut short by the sound of heavy, unbalanced steps coming toward the brig.

"Jones," Will breathed. Michelle left her place at the front of the cell and crept back into the darkness, staring at the evil captain as he entered the room.

Suddenly Michelle remembered.

_The heart!_ she thought, alarmed. _How could I have forgotten?_

_Because you were talking to Will,_ the little voice sneered in her mind.

Michelle pushed the thought away as Jones began to speak.

"No chance you'll tell me where you came from, is there, lass?" he said, stopping in front of her cell.

She just stared steadily up at him, somehow managing to act a lot more calm than she felt. How could he not notice how fast her heart was beating?

She cringed at the thought of her heart--well, any heart, actually.

"No?" Jones asked, his tentacles writhing unnervingly as he drew a set of keys from somewhere on his person with one of said tentacles. "What about that heart, miss; hmm?"

"Do you call it 'that' heart because you refuse to acknowledge that you have one?" Michelle replied evenly as Jones unlocked her cell.

Jones stopped dead. Michelle would have been pleased if she weren't so frightened--she had meant to catch him off guard.

"Tell me, why do you hide from it?" Michelle continued, forcing herself not to tremble. "Love, I mean. Could it really have been that bad? I mean, I've gotten my heart broken--to love someone and know they'll never return your feelings?" Her eyes flickered over to Will, but she looked back before she let herself lose her train of thought.

"I know it's no picnic, but how could you become..._this_?"

Jones hadn't moved, but his eyes had strayed away from Michelle's face, and she knew he was reminiscing, however unhappily. Behind him, Will was frozen, too, probably wondering what the hell she was doing.

"Would _she_ have wanted you to become this?" Michelle asked softly.

At the mention of his former lover, Jones' eyes snapped back to Michelle, whose insides immediately curled--she had gone too far.

Sure enough, he hurled the door open and grabbed Michelle, hauling her to her feet.

"What are you doing?" Will asked, sounding startled at Jones' sudden movement. "Let her go!"

Jones slammed her against the wall of the cell with one strong arm. Michelle only had time for a short yell before he had punched her in the stomach and let her slide down to the floor, coughing and gasping for air.

"Where is the heart?!" he yelled, delivering a swift kick to Michelle's ribs with his peg-leg.

"I--don't know!" Michelle was able to choke out between gasps.

This seemed enough for Jones, who seized her again and dragged her out of her cell and in front of Will's, who was yelling at Jones to stop.

"She died once; perhaps she can do it again?" Jones said mockingly, dropping Michelle and letting her fall heavily to the floor.

"Tell me where the heart is!" Jones roared, stepping on Michelle's stomach with his peg-leg, making her yell with pain.

"Don't!" Michelle gasped. She knew that if Jones had his heart at last, he would kill the two of them.

_But...would it be that bad?_

"I dropped it!" Will yelled, making Jones stop in his mission of piercing a hole through Michelle with his fake leg. "I dropped it in the ocean when we were fighting--just please, leave her alone!"

Jones stared at Will for a moment, clearly trying to discern if he was lying or not. Finally, he lifted his leg from Michelle, making her gasp and roll over in relief, panting.

He seized her again, but this time only threw her into her cell, closing and locking the door as if nothing had happened. Michelle rolled into a corner, moaning slightly.

"If we don't find it, she dies," Jones said, his voice shaking with rage. And with that, he turned on his peg and left.

"Michelle!" Will yelled immediately.

"I'm fine," Michelle lied. She didn't want Will to know it, but she seriously thought Jones had cracked one or more of her ribs with his kick.

"Are you sure?" Michelle had to smile; hardly anything got by this guy.

"Yeah," she said lightly. "But the bastard ruined my shirt." This much was true; she was looking down at a tear in the stomach where he had dug his peg in.

Will chuckled and said, "Well, no matter what condition your shirt is in, we've got to get out of here."

"You're tellin' me," Michelle muttered. "As soon as they find the heart at the bottom of the ocean, they'll kill us."

"Oh, they won't find it," Will said, his eyes glinting in the light of the lantern. And as Michelle's jaw dropped, he drew Davy Jones' heart from inside his shirt.


	12. Chapter 12

James and Alison broke into a run at the same time, each of their strides in sync with the other's.

"This way--I know a shorcut," James said, leading Alison down a street opposite the one they had come from.

Alison said nothing but obeyed. She knew they had no time to waste--they had to find Elizabeth and Weatherby. Beckett probably hadn't been bluffing when he had told them about his men going to take them out.

Sure enough, the small, muddy road they followed brought them to the inn.

"There's no sign of Beckett's men," Alison said, breathing hard from the running. "Do you think we beat them here?"

"Either that or they're already through," James replied, glancing at her with a grim look on his face.

Without another word, the two burst through the door of the inn.

The patrons stared at them.

One glance around the room and Alison could tell that Beckett's men weren't, and probably hadn't, been here--because none of their friends were here, either.

Beside her, James was voicing his confusion.

"Where is everybody?" he asked cluelessly.

"Not here, obviously," Alison said distractedly. "Look, just reload and we can get out of here--"

"Are you askin' about them pirates?" the innkeeper spoke up.

James glanced at Alison before responding. "Yes, but the governor was here too, with his daughter..."

The innkeeper let out a derisive laugh. "Guv'nor? You wouldn't be talkin' 'bout that old man, now would ya?"

"That young miss was sure easy on the eyes, though," a patron chimed in. "Didn't mind having her in here all the time at all."

Alison cast him a withering look before speaking. "Do you know where they are or not?" she asked, letting the edge on her voice reveal her tension.

"Aye, I thought I 'eard 'em sayin' summat 'bout the guv'nor's mansion," the innkeeper replied, balking a little under Alison's glare. "And I says to meself, I says, 'Now why would they go there? That man sure can't be the guv'nor--"

"Thanks, mate," James said, following Alison up the stairs to his room.

Alison was done reloading in seconds, shoving her pistols into her belt after twirling them on her fingers for a bit. From the room across from hers, she heard some muted cursing.

Walking out of her room and into the hall, she could make out James crouching on the ground, scrabbling on the floor in the semi-darkness. By the looks of things, he had in his rush accidentally knocked over his lantern, knocking his extra bullets to the floor.

"James, come on!" Alison said, panicking slightly.

"Just go on without me; I'll catch up," James said distractedly after muttering some more oaths under his breath.

Alison didn't wait another second.

After getting rushed directions to the Swann's mansion from the innkeeper, Alison tore down the streets, her mind racing.

_Why the hell are they going there? It's almost as if they knew Beckett's men were coming for them--but how could they know? And why go there--won't Beckett be near there?_

As these thoughts raced through her mind, so did her legs through the dark, wet streets of Port Royal.

Finally, she made it to a place she recognized from the movie--the gated driveway of the Swann's home. The gates looked like they had been broken open, and this only increased Alison's sense of anxiety about her friends.

She ran up the rocky road (Haha! Ice cream!) and up to the door, which had been left open.

Alison charged into the dark entrance hall without thinking, a move that she soon came to regret.

As soon as she entered the house, bullets hit the wall behind her. Alison ducked behind a small overturned table and peered over the top of it, eyes squinted slightly against the darkness, trying to make out her target...

There! The flash of his gun firing had given away his position on the balcony above.

Alison drew a pistol and fired, smiling grimly at the yell of pain coming from above.

She ran in a crouch into the next room, hoping silently that whoever had been firing at her hadn't seen where she had gone.

Well, she was lucky in that respect, but unfortunately, there was someone in the room she entered. Fortunately, though, he was busy fighting someone else. So it was really actually quite lucky for her.

But not for long.

As she snuck behind a large dining table, Alison heard a pained yell she recognized.

"Gibbs?" she yelled, alarmed, not thinking about how this would give away her position.

It seemed Gibbs was out of the picture for now--the bad guy, who Alison now saw to be a soldier, was coming at her now.

She scurried out from behind the table and stood up, her back against a shelf of china plates, only to have something crash right beside her.

Alison looked down at the ground, where the remains of what looked like a plate were lying in a dusty heap.

And that's where she got the idea to start a plate fight.

Well, he started it--he was the one to start throwing plates. That was what stopped Gibbs, actually, knocking him into the next room with a faceful of plate.

Anyway, she thrust an elbow into the class casing of the sholf, ignoring the slight pain as a shard of glass sliced through both her coarse shirtsleeve and the skin of her upper arm. She fumbled around the shelves, dodging the occasional plate thrown at her head, until her fingers finally grasped a heavy bowl.

She chucked it at the guy across the table, and it hit him squarely in the chest, making his stumble backwards into the wall behind him--and making him really pissed.

The next thing she knew, he was coming around the wide table with a jagged piece of a large white plate in his hand.

Alison made her way quickly around the other side of the table and out the door Gibbs had been sent through earlier. A quick glance around told her that she was in the kitchen--but a quick glance was all she had time for.

The soldier was advancing, brandishing the sharp plate menacingly, and before Alison could get a grip on one of her pistols, she tripped backwards over a large pot that had fallen to the ground.

She flung a hand to the top of the cabinet next to her, but only managed to get her hand on a large silver platter, pulling it down with her as she fell.

This probably saved her life--if she had managed to get hold of the cabinet and haul herself up, the plate surely would have sunk into her chest.

Plus, the platter made a damn good shield.

The plate hit the platter with a resounding BONG, knocking Alison all the way to the floor. The sound resonating in her ears, she scrambled backwards and stood up quickly as the soldier reared back for another swing at her.

They fought like this for a while, neither of them willing to register how stupid they must look dueling with plates and platters. But, hey, whatever worked--the dude was out of bullets and didn't have a sword, and he wouldn't stop attacking Alison long enough for her to grab a pistol or two. In retrospect, she knew she should have shot the guy before having to deal with swinging a platter around like some kind of deranged maid, but she was too caught up in the moment to dwell on that for now.

Finally, the guy stumbled on some piece of kitchenware or another, Alison didn't notice which; all that mattered was that he fell backwards with a painful-sounding SMACK of his head hitting the floor, allowing Alison a chance to get the hell out of the kitchen of doom.

On to the next room. After a quick survey, she registered that it was empty and was--or had been--a drawing room. Two of the chairs were upturned and the curtains were missing from one of the windows, but there was neither friend nor foe in there.

Alison took a different door out of the drawing room and found herself in the entrance hall again, this time facing the front door, which remained open, a doorway (well, duh) to the still night outside, quite the opposite of the chaos taking place inside the Swann's house.

Alison charged up the stairs, now more determined than ever to find her friends. She had just battled a guy with a platter, goddammit, and that had been exhausting! She'd stick to her pistols anyday.

At the top of the stairs, she stopped in her tracks, as there was another soldier at the end of the hallway, brandishing two very long, very sharp points and grinning.

Alison rolled her eyes, pulled out a pistol, and shot him.

Stepping over his body as he lay moaning and trying to stem the flow of blood coming from his shoulder, Alison entered the first door she saw and saw Gibbs, Cotton (whose parrot was nowhere to be found), and Marty holding their own against three other soldiers, all of them wielding swords.

Alison fired a shot into the ceiling to get some attention. Everyone turned to look at her, and then the pirates cut their enemies while they were still staring with surprise.

"Where are Elizabeth and Weatherby?" Alison asked, striding into the room.

"The cellar," Gibbs said, panting. "Elizabeth wanted to fight, but he wouldn't let her."

"Let's go," Alison said, exiting the room to let the pirates go ahead of her--she assumed they knew where the cellar was.

She assumed right. Gibbs, Marty, and Cotton led her to a door in the back of the house that led to the dark, dank wine cellar by way of a narrow stone stairway.

Alison could just make out Elizabeth sitting in a chair, her back to the three pirates and Alison, looking curiously dejected for someone whose friends were battling for her safety.

"Elizabeth!" she said, frowning. "Where's your father?"

Elizabeth whirled around at the sound of Alison's voice. "Alison, don't it's a--"

"Trap," Marty breathed. Behind him, the cellar door had been shut with an ominous _thud_. It hadn't even creaked to give our heroes a chance to see what was going on.

Alison drew her pistols immediately, but she knew they would be of no use--it was too dark in the cellar to see a target clearly, unless it was within two feet of your face.

"Ah, Miss Connors! So glad you could join us," a voice said from somewhere in the cellar.

"Beckett," Alison growled, her eyes narrowing.

"Good to see your hearing wasn't damaged by that little gunfight we had in the street earlier," Beckett said ironically.

"Good to see you're still an asshole," Alison said in the same light tone.

Beckett chuckled and moved into the dim light cast by the single lantern hanging over their heads. But he wasn't alone. He had Weatherby handcuffed and close to him. Then she saw the pistol he was holding in his wounded arm, which looked healthy nonetheless, as it was currently pointed steadfastly at Weatherby's stomach.

Alison watched warily as Beckett calmly lit several more lanterns, which lit the room profusely. She knew that if she made a move to escape or to harm Beckett, he would shoot Weatherby. So she decided to just wait this one out and see where it was going.

"I thought everything had gone all wrong when that damn bird tipped Miss Swann off about my plans to kill her and her father," Beckett said, casting a dark look at Cotton as he mentioned the bird. Alison knew he must be talking about the parrot, and she hid a smile as she thought of its parts in the movies.

"But fate, it seems, has finally changed into my favor," Beckett continued, giving Weatherby a jab in the stomach with his pistol.

Alison saw Elizabeth's eyes flash with alarm.

"You could have killed him and Elizabeth before we got here. You obviously have some other motive," Alison said, somehow managing to keep her voice steady.

"Well, of course I do!" Beckett said, laughing. "You already knew that I wanted _you_ dead--although you managed to evade my men..._twice_...tonight..."

"Impressive, isn't it?" Alison asked, smirking.

Gibbs quickly covered up his little laugh with a cough. Beckett ignored these happenings and continued.

"Anyway, I knew you you wouldn't waste your time trying to find your friends...but when they came here, it threw me completely off guard." He paused in his rambling to allow a grin to slid onto his face. "But look how well it's turned out!"

He began to slowly back up towards the staircase, still gripping Weatherby's arm with his own good one, the pistol still cocked and pointed at his side.

"And now, I'll kill _all_ of you, and there's nothing you can do about it!" Beckett said, a mad gleam coming to his eye.

"You'll still have James to deal with," Alison said quickly. It was a weak point, she knew, but she thought she was about to die--she would take anything she could get.

Her statement actually seemed to hold some sort of sway with Beckett. His face souring, he replied, "In due time, Miss Connors...your precious James will die, too."

There was a thud from the top of the staircase as someone swung it open, making it hit the wall. Beckett, whose back was to the door, didn't know the door was opening and therefore didn't turn until it was too late.

James Norrington shot him in the chest.

There was a collective gasp around the cellar. Beckett was miraculously still standing, and he managed to look down at his chest as if wondering what had just happened. Weatherby stepped away from the doomed man, looking horrified.

When Beckett looked up, his lips were dribbling with blood.

Alison was too distracted by watching the color drain from his face to see him lift his pistol.

BANG.

The dying bastard had somehow managed to shoot James!

And he fell.

Beckett, I mean, not James.

You didn't really think I'd kill off James, did you? Sheesh.

Anyway, Alison gasped in horror and took the stairs two at a time to get to James, who had dropped his pistol and was holding his shoulder, where the bullet had managed to pierce his jacket and graze his skin--not enough to get stuck in his arm, but enough to make it hurt pretty damn badly.

"I'm fine," he said before Alison even said anything.

Alison wasn't sure why she had run up there. Now that he had announced that he was fine, she felt rather ridiculous fawning over him like a sick puppy.

Luckily, the rest of the group was springing into action down in the cellar, so no one really cared about her actions.

Except for James.

Alison didn't notice him gazing at her as she turned sheepishly away.

After their little adventure at the Swann's mansion, our heroes headed back to the inn. Since no one had wanted to touch Beckett's body, they had left it in the cellar, assuming more soldiers would arrive.

Elizabeth and Weatherby didn't seem too devastated about the state of their house, being too preoccupied with Beckett being murdered in front of them. Elizabeth, Alison observed, just seemed relieved that her father hadn't been hurt. The same went the other way for Weatherby.

During the walk back to the inn, in which no one talked very much, not knowing what to say, Alison considered how much different Elizabeth was now as opposed to in the movies. Had her role in Jack's death affected her this much?

Technically, Alison mused, it had--she felt guilty about Will, making her into a virtual puddle when they had made up; her puddly state hadn't been helped by her finding her father locked up in a cell, although she had made up with Will after she had found her father...

Alison was distracted by these thoughts by Norrington, who was walking next to her, stumbling rather badly.

Almost as a reflex, she stopped and grabbed him, being careful of the gunshot wound on his shoulder. She thought his face looked unusually pale, but she couldn't be sure as his hair was hanging in his face.

"James?" she asked tentatively, pushing his chest gently to steady him.

"I'm...fine," he breathed.

Alison noticed that the rest of the group had stopped also. She wanted them to go on...she knew she wouldn't like to be seen in such a weak state.

"You all go ahead, I'll stay with James," she heard herself saying.

"Thanks," he murmured as the group left without much protest.

"No problem," Alison said, smiling faintly up at him.

The gaze between the two lingered for a moment...then a few moments longer. The smile faded slowly from Alison's face as she looked into his eyes. She felt her heart pounding and noticed her gaze was slipping to his lips...

She leaned in, standing up a little straighter to reach, half-closing her eyes...

James turned away. "We should get going," he said, removing his hand from hers and brushing past her.

Alison's hand dropped to her side. She stared into space for a moment, then shook herself and followed James, not wanting him to realize how upset she was.


	13. Chapter 13

After about five full minutes of arguing with Pintel and Ragetti, Monica had had enough, so she just called them both assfaces and ran off. Not the most sensible tactic, she knew, but she had had a bad day--first she had been punched and tackled by Jack, then she had been yelled at by Barbossa, then she had been attacked by Pintel, then she had woken up tied up only to discover she would be marooned, then she had been attacked by Pintel again, only this time with a gun, and now she, Pintel, and Ragetti were stranded on this island.

So, all in all, it was a typical day for her.

As Monica stomped down the beach, finally stopping running in frustration from the two pirates, she furiously wiped dried blood from her nose, muttering about her plight, among other things.

"Why the hell would he punch me? Frickin' douche...he knew we could _stage_ a bloody fight...stupid! Now he's stuck on the ship with Barbossa; serves him right!"

Here, presently, Monica felt a bit of worry for her friend, even though she was mad at him.

"What is Barby gonna do to him? Oh man, what if he hurts him?!...but why would he? He doesn't really have a reason to...it's not like he'd be mad at Jack for punching me; he hates me! He gave me a freakin' black eye..."

Here, Monica let out a string of foul names about the evil captain. After quite a long time of Barbossa-bashing, her angry rambling took on a new subject.

"Freakin' Pintel and Ragetti! Never in a million years would I have thought I'd be marooned on an island with _them_...why? Because they're the 'bad guys'...well, they are now, at least. Because of stupid Barbossa...if only I could get them on Jack's side; maybe they could help me...but probably not, because they're _so_ FREAKIN' _STUPID_!!!"

Monica had turned around to scream in the general direction of the two pirates. When she was done, she stopped to catch her breath, still glaring down the beach, but knowing it was pointless.

"Who were you yellin' at?"

Monica whirled around to see Pintel and Ragetti standing a ways down the beach, looking dumbfounded.

"What the--" Monica turned around stupidly as if looking for them behind her. Then she saw her own footprints beyond Pintel and Ragetti and realized that she had walked around the whole small island.

Sighing frustratedly, Monica sat down in the sand, dropping her head in her hands. She didn't see Pintel and Ragetti shrug at each other, Pintel twirling a finger at the side of his head and pointing at her.

Monica finally looked up when she heard the two of them start bickering over the lighting of a fire.

"You're doin' it wrong!" Pintel said angrily, making Ragetti drop the two sticks he was trying to rub together.

"I'm just doin' it diff'rent!" Ragetti retorted, picking up the stick diligently.

"Exactly, and diff'rent is wrong!" Pintel snatched the two sticks and smacked Ragetti in the arm with them.

"Is there anything you two don't fight about?" Monica asked them, trying to decide if she was amused or fed up.

"Oh, well, excuse me if I want to get a fire goin'!" Pintel said, shoving Ragetti away from the pile of sticks.

"Why, what's the point?" Monica asked. "Barbossa'll come for us eventually when you two don't come back." Her face soured at her own mention of Barbossa. "And won't that be a picnic?" she muttered, half to herself.

While Monica's face had darkened at the thought of Barbossa, Ragetti's had paled. "When he finds out we screwed up again--" he began.

"Would you quit worryin' about him?" Pintel asked, rolling his eyes. "Honestly, everything with you, it's 'Barbossa'll do this' and 'Barbossa'll do that'. We'll just blame all this on her."

Monica gave him an offended look as Ragetti said, "But that'll only make him more mad, knowin' that she screwed up our plan!"

Pintel stopped in his stick-rubbing. (Wow, that sounded kind of wrong.) "He'll be more mad at her than he will be with us," he said firmly, but Monica detected a hint of uncertainty in his voice.

"Why do you stay on his side when all he does is frighten you?" Monica asked, shaking her head.

"He doesn't frighten us!" Pintel yelled indignantly. "Right, Ragetti?"

Ragetti didn't answer, avoiding looking at Pintel, who rolled his eyes.

"We've been over this, boys," Monica said, standing up and brushing sand off her butt and legs. "You won't admit you're afraid, so you say Barbossa's holding the power. But since he's got the power, what are you looking to get out of that? You don't honestly think you'll _get_ some of that power?"

Monica had crossed her arms in front of her chest, placing a smug smirk on her face to show her satisfaction with her argument.

But this smirk promptly disappeared when Pintel pulled out his pistol, cocked it, and pointed it at her.

"Right! Well, I'll not bother you again, sir," Monica said, paling and raising her hands in front of her in a defensive gesture.

As she sat down hurriedly, Pintel put his gun away and turned back to the nonexistant fire. Monica soon became bored with watching him fail repeatedly and turned her eyes back to the sea.

Was it just her, or did the Jolly Roger seem a bit closer? Squinting and holding up a hand to block the sun, she judged that it was, in fact, now sailing toward their little island.

Monica knew she had to get Pintel and Ragetti on her and Jack's side before Barbossa got back, or they'd all be screwed. Just as she was wondering how to make that happen, Ragetti spoke.

"Maybe she's right, Pintel," he said, earning surprised looks from both Pintel and Monica. Before Pintel could retort with a biting comment, he continued: "At least with Cap'n Jack we weren't afraid for our lives all the time."

"Except when we was gettin' attacked by a kraken," Pintel muttered. Monica winced; he had a good point there. "And we weren't scared for our lives when we was with Barbossa before!"

"That's because we were immortal!" Ragetti insisted.

"Right! And now you need to take care of your mortal souls!" Monica blurted. "The dichotomy of good and evil and all that."

Ragetti nodded earnestly at Pintel, overlooking the fact that Monica had quoted him. Pintel still looked skeptical, however.

"I still say we're better off with Barbossa," he said, finally putting the sticks down so he could better debate with Monica and Ragetti.

"Why?" Monica groaned. "Didn't he get you cursed in the first place? Aren't you just a little bit peeved about that?"

"At least we got treasure with Barbossa," Pintel said, but Monica was sure he was just scrambling for excuses.

"_Cursed_ treasure!" Ragetti reminded him.

"With Jack it was all these adventures..." Pintel sighed. "We never got any honest piratin' in!"

"If you help him, I guarantee you Jack will reward you," Monica said quickly. "Besides, you think Barbossa will want to do any pirating when he's got Jack and me to deal with? He's got enough on his plate as it is."

Pintel frowned at the pile of sticks in front of him. Then he said, "It won't be easy overtakin' Barbossa."

Monica hid her elation at the fact that he was ready to turn. "Come on! Four against one? It'll be a cinch! I mean, you did lots of his dirty work, right? So that technically makes you more...capable."

Pintel couldn't help but exchange a smug glance with Ragetti, who looked pleased that his friend was agreeing with him for once.

"Alright! It's settled then," Monica said happily. "When Barbossa gets here, we'll fight him, and everything will go back to normal."

She just hoped everything went as easily as it sounded.

She doubted it.

While the three of them waited in various states of nervousness for Barbossa to return to the island, Monica had set to exploring the small spit of land. There was a bit of a jungle on it, and there was enough cover there for her not to be able to see the beach anymore. All in all, there really wasn't that much to explore, but she was so goddamn bored that she didn't have anything better to do.

She had "borrowed" Ragetti's sword to hack through the vegetation that might get in her way. She pretended she was an intrepid explorer on the verge of discovering some ancient ruins or something.

_Oh, that's rich_, she thought, pushing past a large bush. _Here I am, in the Pirates of the Caribbean world, pretending I'm somewhere else..._

She attributed it to her daydreamer-ness, not to the fact that she didn't want to be there. Besides, this island was so damn boring, it was more interesting to pretend--

POW! KA-BLAM! KA-BLOOIE!

She heard gunshots from the beach. Okay, they didn't really sound like that, but you get the idea.

She froze for a split second, then knew the time had come to take on Barbossa. With a determined look on her face, she charged through the jungle back to the beach, ready to fight.

Suddenly, a figure burst through the jungle ahead of her. She stopped short, startled.

Ragetti was running toward her, looking terrified.

"Sword!" he yelled desperately in a high-pitched voice. As an impulse, Monica tossed his sword back to him. He turned around and ran back the other way, and Monica realized that he must be going back to face Barbossa.

But not for long. Soon after, both Pintel and Ragetti came charging through, looking as if they were running for their lives. They ran right past a bewildered Monica, who was terrified of facing Barbossa alone and weaponless.

"Sword!!" she screamed at their backs.

Two swords came sailing towards her, and before she could react, they both smacked her in the head.

She toppled over, to surprised to make a sound. Dazed, she realized that she had landed on her back, the two swords on either side of her. Monica groaned and tryed to blink the stars out of her eyes.

She heard underbrush rustling above her head, and she felt a horrible wave of dread as she realized that Barbossa was coming as she laid there on the ground, possibly with a concussion.

Sure enough, he barged through the bushes and nearly trampled her--he probably would have if it weren't for her pitiful moaning.

"Leave me alone," she slurred as Barbossa stared down at her. "All...four of ya."

She felt him grip her tightly by the arm and haul her up. Feeling dizzy, she swayed back and forth a bit, still trying to clear her vision.

"Where did they go?" he demanded angrily, shaking her a bit.

Monica shrugged weakly. "HellifIknow," she said thickly. Then she giggled. "That rhymed," she informed Barbossa.

Growling with disgust, he tramped through the jungle, pulling Monica along with him. Soon, however, they reached the end of the jungle, and they found themselves at the beach on the other side of the island.

Barbossa scanned the area for signs of them. Monica, still feeling a bit woozy from running through the jungle, knew she had to act fast to help them.

Just as Barbossa noticed Pintel and Ragetti's footprints in the sand, she pointed suddenly and gasped, slurring, "Look over there!"

Barbossa turned and looked, just like Monica had planned. She drew a weak arm back and took a swing at him just as he turned back around.

Angered by her pathetic attempt at a punch, he shoved her away, making her fall back into the jungle and into a bush with an "Oof!" He drew his pistol, cocked it, and pointed it at Monica, whose eyes crossed as she tried to focus on the number of pistols she saw above her.

Barbossa was about to shoot when there was more rustling from the jungle. He barely had time to look before Jack charged at him, brandishing the two swords Pintel and Ragetti had thrown at Monica.

He barrelled into Barbossa, and the pistol was knocked out of Barbossa's hand just a few feet from Monica, who sat there in shock, surprised to see Jack.

As she shakily stood up, the two pirates fought their way onto the beach, Jack armed with two swords and Barbossa with only one. Monica grabbed Barbossa's pistol and ran after them, her head pounding.

She knew it was pointless to try and shoot Barbossa, as she might miss and accidentally hit Jack instead. Plus, she didn't really trust her sight at the moment.

As she watched, Pintel and Ragetti emerged from the jungle. After they took in the scene, Pintel jogged up to Monica's side.

"Where'd he come from?" he asked, panting, and Monica knew he was wondering about Jack. Monica shrugged and continued watching the fight, wishing she could help somehow.

Her chance came soon enough, however. Jack managed to knock Barbossa down into the sand, making Barbossa drop his sword. Monica sprinted toward them, still holding the pistol, as Jack kicked the sword out of Barbossa's reach. Barbossa seemed ready to lunge for it when Monica cocked the pistol and pointed it at him.

"Hold it right there! I gotcha covered, see?" Monica said, squeezing one eye shut so she could get a good aim at his face.

Pintel and Ragetti weren't far behind Monica. They looked a bit worried at the sight of their former captain at the mercy of Jack and Monica, but they didn't say anything. Jack just looked relieved and a bit smug at seeing his rival on the ground.

Monica looked up at Jack. "Now what?" she asked flatly.

It was nearly nightfall, and Monica was enjoying the fresh air on the deck of the Jolly Roger. She, Jack, Pintel, and Ragetti had had to carry Barbossa--actually, they didn't mind dragging him half the time--after Jack had uncerimoniously knocked him out with a sword hilt to the head. Monica had asked Jack in an undertone if they were going to kill him, but he had answered, "No. We may need him later." Monica couldn't think of any reason she'd ever need him, but she was relieved just the same--she didn't think she could stomach either killing him or seeing him killed.

They had taken him to the boat he had rowed to the island in from the Jolly Roger. Pintel and Ragetti were afraid to be in the same boat as the unconcious Barbossa, so they had taken the boat Jack had rowed to the island with, leaving Jack and Monica with the corpse-like body. On the way back to the ship, Jack described to Monica how he had escaped the brig with the reindeer's shinbone Monica had originally suggested picking the lock with. After that, he realized what had happened, so he "gallantly jumped to the rescue," as he so lightly put it.

Anyway, the group had decided to sail for Port Royal now that the "good guys" had control of the ship, figuring that they might be able to regroup with the others and try to work out a plan to somehow save Jack from his buddy the kraken and somehow defeat Davy Jones, but not before somehow getting Jones to resurrect the Pearl from the depths or whatever it was he did to bring it back.

Now, Barbossa was locked in the brig, Pintel and Ragetti were enjoying their new (somewhat) freedom, Jack was looking for Jack the monkey so he could shoot him, and Monica was taking advantage of being alone on the deck by singing her own version of a rather popular song.

"I'm bringin' Sparrow back...yeah! Them other pirates don't know how to act...yeah! I think he's special, so I'll bring him back...yeah! When he's in trouble, I pick up the slack...yeah!"

This ridonkulous singing was accompanied by some pretty stupid dancing. But, she thought she was alone. Hey, haven't you ever heard the phrase "Dance like nobody's watching"?

So she went on like this, for some reason. She was just in a good mood.

"I'm bringin' Sparrow back...YEAUGH!"

The last word of that line had turned into a freaked-out yell. Jack the monkey had skittered out of nowhere across her foot. He stopped short in front of her, and Monica saw that he had Ragetti's false eyeball between his teeth.

Just as she was about to make a revolted remark, someone tried to shoot her.

"What the--!" she exclaimed, jumping back as the monkey gave a muffled screech and scampered off. Monica whirled around to see Jack looking furious, brandishing his pistol.

"Where did he go?!" he yelled, and Monica pointed wordlessly in the direction he had gone in. When Jack started after it, Ragetti ran up, shouting, "Don't shoot me eye!" Pintel wasn't far behind. He yelled to Ragetti, "He wouldn't have gotten it if you stopped rubbin' it!"

And just like that, Monica was alone again. She remained silent for a moment, stunned at what had just happened.

Then she burst out laughing, knowing that the next few days would be full of harmless but funny events such as this one.

Or so she thought...


	14. Chapter 14

Michelle's jaw dropped as she saw Will produce Davy Jones's heart from inside his shirt. A million questions were buzzing through her mind, but she didn't know which one to ask first. Even if she did know, she thought, she probably wouldn't be able to form any comprehensible words, much less string them along into questions.

"How--" she croaked finally, not taking her eyes off of the faintly beating organ. "How do you--"

"Jones never knew I had it in the first place, and therefore didn't know to look for it on me," Will said, smiling slightly at Michelle's reaction. Michelle finally looked up at him, wincing slightly at the gash that marred his otherwise handsome face.

"But Jones might figure out that you have it," she whispered wonderingly.

"What?"

"When I first...got back, I heard him and one of the crew members talking...they were saying how they hadn't searched you for the heart because they wanted you to suffer..."

Michelle dropped her eyes, guilty that she hadn't been able to rescue Will from being hurt. She quickly pushed this thought away as Will began to speak again.

"Then we haven't got much time."

"Well, what are we supposed to do?" Michelle asked frustratedly. "Should we just stab the thing and get it over with?"

Will shook his head. "I don't think it will be that easy," he said grimly.

"Yeah, I doubt anything is going to be easy for us in this situation," Michelle grumbled. "So...what do you think _will_ happen if we stab it?" she asked, feeling excitement rise within her.

Looking up at Will, she somehow perceived that he wasn't as thrilled at the prospect of blindly stabbing the heart of Davy Jones. In fact, he was looking at her as if she were insane.

"I'd rather not find out," he said bluntly. "I have a feeling something would happen to the ship as well."

Michelle nodded. She wasn't too keen on the ship sinking or something while she and Will were trapped in the brig. But still...

"So we just find a way out of here and _then_ stab it?" she asked brightly.

Will chuckled at this idea. "I guess that's the best plan we've got," he said resignedly. (Is that a word??)

Alison and James had walked back to the inn in stony silence, neither of them acknowledging the fact that Alison had just been rejected for a kiss from James. Boy, that sucks.

During the long walk back to the inn, Alison's thoughts grew darker and darker. At first, she was embarrassed that James had turned away, then she was confused; he had wanted it, hadn't he? He could have turned away a long time before that! Then, she let her temper get the best of her, thinking he had led her on. She knew that that wasn't his intention at all, but she felt some comfort in thinking the whole damn thing hadn't been her fault.

Anywho, so they got back to the inn. Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Elizabeth, and Weatherby had been walking ahead after Alison and Norrington had stopped, and they were nowhere to be seen--Alison figured they had gone up to their rooms after their exhausting day.

Alison, now fully angry with Norrington, darted through the common room of the inn and up the stairs without a word to him.

"Alison, wait--" he said finally, following her up to her room, but she slammed the door behind her.

Plopping down on the bed, Alison was left alone with her thoughts--Elizabeth, she assumed, was still with her father. She knew it was stupid of her to just shut Norrington out just because he didn't want to kiss her, but...

_God!_ she thought angrily, seizing her pillow and punching it furiously. _Why are all men so stupid?!_

_You're being stupider than he is,_ a voice reasoned inside her head.

Alison scowled and threw the pillow back onto the bed, resting her elbows on her knees and dropping her head in her hands. She hated it when the hard but sensible reasoning made itself clear--it was so much easier just to stay angry with him!

Or was it?

In the weeks after her father's death, Alison remembered that her primary emotion had been anger--anger at whoever had done it, anger at whatever god/goddess/deity/whatever had deemed his time on Earth as ending so abruptly, even anger at her father for working late that night in the first place.

But she had realized that the anger got her nowhere. She later wished that she hadn't wasted all that time feeling mad at things she couldn't control.

But she also knew that being angry at that time of crisis in her life had helped make her who she was today.

Not that she had anger management issues or anything. No, she just let her temper get the best of her in certain situations.

...Which leads us back to where we were when I started blabbering about her father's death.

On with the story!

Alison, in thinking about all this, had slowly picked up her pillow and hugged it tightly against her chest. It was only then that she realized the tears rolling down her face.

Furious, she wiped them away quickly. She hated crying--it seemed like a weakness to her.

But then again, so did showing too much of any emotion. Except for anger, of course.

Alison also hated being alone with her thoughts, because that made her think too much about herself and how screwed up she was.

Luckily, she wouldn't be alone for much longer.

"Watcha gonna do with all that dirt, all that dirt inside that jar? Imma get get get get your heart, get your damn heart--"

"Are you singing about my late jar of dirt?"

Monica squeaked in singing her rendition of "My Humps" by the Black Eyed Peas, having previously thought that she was alone. She smiled sheepishly up at Jack as he joined her at the side of the small ship.

"Yep, sure was!" she answered brightly, pleased just to have Jack back at her side. Happily reminiscing about "the good ol' days," she almost didn't hear Jack as he spoke again.

"So, when am I getting the Pearl back?"

Startled, Monica tore her eyes away from the sun setting on the horizon. They were already a day within arriving at Port Royal, and Monica had been pretty preoccupied with hopes of seeing her sisters again. "Uhh...I don't know," she said lamely. "I was kinda hoping you'd have some idea as how to get it back..." She trailed off, looking hopefully up at him.

"Oh, I know _how_ to get it back," Jack said, smirking out at the sea. "That'll be easy. It's the _how_ I'm going to get it back that worries me."

Monica frowned, turning his words over in her mind to see if he had said what she thought he had said. Then she nodded slowly and said, "Oh, I see...you know how to get it, but you just don't know how it is we're gonna go about doing whatever it is we need to do to do it."

Jack stared at her. "You're not makin' any sense at all," he said, frowning.

Monica shook her head. "Whatever. Just lemme in on the plan, Cap'n."

Jack gave her one last suspicious look before speaking. "All I have to do is barter with Jones to get the Pearl back," he began.

"Oh, that'll be easy," Monica said, rolling her eyes.

Jack appeared not to notice the sarcasm in her words. "It's finding Jones that will be difficult," he continued.

"Can't you use your compass?" Monica asked curiously.

Jack shook his head. "I don't fully trust it...it's been acting dodgy lately..."

"Tia Dalma?" Monica suggested, remembering how she had led Jack and Will to the Flying Dutchman in _Dead Man's Chest_.

"I'm sure she'd be willing to help us out...would you like to be her payment?" Jack asked dryly.

"Nah, we've met; I don't think she liked me enough to accept me as a gift," Monica said seriously.

Jack raised his eyebrows as if he were going to ask something, but then he apparently decided he didn't want to know, because he said, "I suppose there's always that bloody monkey..."

"If we can catch it," Monica mused. "Plus, Barbossa'd probably be pissed if we sold his pet."

"Yes, well, Barbossa's not really in a place to--"

Jack and Monica both dawned on the same idea at the same time. "Barbossa!"

Michelle and Will were struggling to find something, anything they could use to break out of the brig with, but it seemed that any time they got anywhere, they were forced to stop. For example, the one time Will found an old, barnacle-covered nail he thought he could pick the lock of his cell with, a couple crewmembers came to check on them. Will had been hard at work shoving the nail into the lock, but when he heard the two creatures coming, he had to pull it out again--which broke the nail in the process. It seemed that anything that stayed on the ship for too long would turn more barnacle than human.

Which was slowly happening to Will's father, Michelle knew. But that only made her more determined to break out of that hellhole and rescue him.

Bootstrap, Michelle noticed, never came down on one of the random inspections to check on the prisoners. She was pretty sure they just didn't want him trying to help them, but a part of her owrried that it was because he was hurt...or worse.

With these dark thoughts accompanying her, all she could do was concentrate on breaking out of there--and hopefully after that, she and Will would be able to rescue Bootstrap, and then maybe she'd be reunited with her sisters.

She hoped she didn't have to wait out the rest of her time there to see them again.

As soon as she heard the knock on her door, Alison knew it was Norrington, so of course she didn't respond. When he knocked louder and called softly, "Alison?" she just rolled her eyes and turned her back to the door.

_I hope he doesn't try to barge in,_ she thought suddenly. With that thought, she rose quietly and crept to the door, not wanting Norrington to hear her at all. When she reached the door, she locked it--no, wait, it had already been locked...now it was unlocked.

Unfortunately for Alison, that moment was the moment Norrington decided to try the handle.

As the door opened, Alison furiously tried to close it again, but Norrington proved too strong for her, even with having recently been shot. He pushed his way into her room, and she backed away, not wanting to be near him.

"What the hell are you doing?!" she yelled angrily as he entered her room.

"Didn't think it would be open," Norrington said, looking surprised.

"It wasn't," Alison snarled. Before Norrington could falsify this statement, Alison continued, "Now, will you just _leave?_"

With this last word she pushed his chest, backing him out of the door. But Norrington wasn't about to give up that easily.

He pushed forward, sending Alison easily back. This only made her angrier, and she pushed with all her might against his chest, only getting a surprised look from him.

"Easy, easy--ow!" he yelped as she kicked his shin.

"I said get out!" Alison roared.

"Hang on, I only want to--"

"Go!"

Norrington finally relaxed and let her push him out of her room. "What can I do to make you listen to me?" he asked exasperatedly before she could slam the door in her face.

"You can--oh--nothing!!" Alison said, getting madder by the second. One look at Norrington's face and she saw that he was actually amused by her anger.

Alison let out a frustrated groan/roar/scream thingy and slammed the door, only to have it catch on Norrington's foot.

Howling with pain, Norrington jumped back, limping on his wounded leg, which had now been kicked and caught in the door. Alison laughed derisively, even though she felt pretty bad for the guy.

"Wot the 'ell is goin' on 'ere?!" a voice yelled. Alison and Norrington turned to see the innkeeper standing in the hall, looking furious.

When neither of them answered, the innkeeper grumbled, "If you're gonna fight, take it outside. I can't 'ave ya upsettin' the other guests."

"Don't worry, he was just leaving," Alison said, glaring up at Norrington, who rolled his eyes.

"Oh, enough," he said, grabbing her arm and pulling her down the hallway.

"Hey--let me go!" Alison shouted, smacking his arm, but to no avail.

"You wanna help me out here?" she asked the innkeeper darkly as she and Norrington passed, but he just looked happy that the fighting couple was leaving his inn.

As soon as they were outside, Norrington released his hold on Alison's arm. She immediately tried to make a run for it, but he just pulled her back to him and kissed her.

Yeah, that's right, he planted a big one.

After he broke the kiss, Alison asked, "What was that for?", her head spinning.

"That was so you would listen to me," he said, looking into her eyes nervously.

"Well, it worked," Alison grumbled, breaking away from him angrily...as much as she wanted to remain in his arms. "That couldn't have happened earlier tonight?" she asked irately.

"That's what I want to talk to you about," Norrington said quickly, as if afraid Alison would fly off the handle again.

"Right," Alison grumbled. "I'll bet you just wanted a pop."

"What?"

"Nevermind." Alison pulled her thick blond hair back from her face, trying to cool herself in the humid night. "Just...talk."

"Oh...okay," Norrington said somewhat stupidly, clearly taken aback from Alison's abruptness. "Well...I'm sorry I didn't kiss you earlier," he began, looking up to the sky as if too nervous to look at her. "I suppose I...wasn't ready...I just kept thinking about the last time I gave my heart away, and how well _that_ turned out..."

Alison glanced at him and saw that he was looking abashedly at the ground, wringing his hands slightly. He continued.

"I just find it hard sometimes to, you know...be open with my feelings," he said, looking up at the inky sky again. "Before, when I was Captain, and then Commodore...I never really showed much emotion...then I became this cold, dry shell trying to get my old life back...and now I'm stuck between that and becoming someone new, and I'm just afraid who--"

Alison walked up to him, seized him by his coat, and kissed him hard.

"What was that for?" he asked when she was done.

"To get you to shut up," she said, grinning. "It took a lot of guts to say all that stuff, after what you've been through--"

At that thought, she paused and remembered that he had been shot earlier tonight.

"Whoops," she muttered. "Come on, let's get you upstairs."

Norrington looked shocked. "Well, if you say so--" he began, a mischeivous glint in his eye.

"Don't get too excited; I just want to have a look at that arm of yours," Alison said, grinning.

And they walked hand in hand back up to his room.

"Do you think Jones would actually come if Barbossa was about to kick the bucket?" Monica asked Jack nervously.

"Why not?" Jack replied, but Monica noticed a hint of apprehension in his voice.

"I don't know--maybe he doesn't count because he's, like, back from the dead," Monica suggested.

"Well, if this doesn't work, at least we won't feel bad in giving his damn monkey to Tia Dalma again!" Jack said brightly.

Monica gave him a weak smile, but she wasn't very reassured--she didn't want to kill anybody.

"Do you think maybe when we get to Port Royal we'll find someone who's already close to death so we don't have to do it?" she asked Jack hopefully.

Jack laughed. "Right. Port Royal isn't Tortuga, love."

Monica sighed and stared at the approaching docks. In the few days that had passed from when they had left her would-be death island to now, she had felt extreme anxiety about the whole "killing Barbossa" deal.

"Here's the plan," Jack said to Pintel and Ragetti, who had just joined him and Monica. "When arrive at Port Royal, we pick up ol' what's-her-face and her motley crew, then we hop on a ship and sail the bejeezus out of here. When we're far enough out into the open ocean, we wound Barby down there and then bang! There's Jones. Then it's just a matter of finding the heart, rescuing two or three people, and bargaining for my soul and my ship with the keeper of the locker of the depths. And, of course, most of this will probably be conducted under heavy fire."

Jack turned to look at his tiny crew, which consisted of two stooge pirates and a fifteen-year-old girl from the future who had an odd knowledge of his life.

"Who's with me?" he asked confidently as if he hadn't just described the mission from doom.

"Me!" Monica said excitedly. Pintel and Ragetti looked at each other uneasily as Jack left to sail the Jolly Roger into the Port Royal docks.

Michelle and Will still hadn't figured out a way to get out of the brig of the Flying Dutchman--not for lack of trying, of course, but there just seemed to be no way out.

They had stopped talking to each other. They were both too focused on trying to get out of there to think of anything to say.

Michelle didn't know about Will, but she slowly found herself losing hope. If they waited too long, Jones would eventually figure out that Will still had his heart, and he would surely kill them both. On the other hand, if they _did_ escape, what would happen? They could stab the heart, true, but they had no idea what would happen. And perhaps that destroyed the crew as well? They had to find some way to save Bootstrap.

Plus, they didn't know if Barbossa, Pintel, Ragetti, and Monica had succeeded in their mission of rescuing Jack. Jack still needed the heart as leverage to barter with Jones for the state of his soul, not to mention the Black Pearl.

So if they couldn't stab the heart, what then? They had no weapons, no way of fighting their way off the ship--and if they managed to do that, there was just the vast ocean to deal with--and the kraken.

Yeah, I'd be a little down in the dumps if I were her, too.

But just as these feelings were starting to bring her down, Will was coming up with a plan that might change all her negative thoughts.

The next time food was brought to our heroes in the brig, Will surprised Michelle and the two lackeys with a demand.

"I want to see Jones," he said suddenly, making everyone in the room stare at him.

Hammerhead, who was delivering Will's food to him, sneered. "Do you, now?" he asked condescendingly as the guy behind him laughed.

They both shut up as the now-familiar steps of the captain of the Flying Dutchman came closer to the brig.

Michelle felt the blood drain out of her face as she glanced at Will. He looked determined, so that comforted her somewhat--but she still thought he had snapped.

When Jones entered the brig, Will didn't allow him to make a menacing statement.

"I'd like to make a deal with you," he said immediately, looking almost pathetic huddling in a corner of his cell compared to Jones, who was standing at his full height in front of the cell, the top of his hat nearly brushing the ceiling.

Michelle couldn't see Jones's face, as his back was to her, but she heard the surprised note in his voice: "A deal, Mr. Turner? What makes you think I'd let you bargain with me?"

Will didn't back down, but instead continued talking as if he hadn't heard Jones's statement. "I want you to raise the Black Pearl from the depths for us," he said, staring up at Jones steadily. "You'll then let us go, and then you can give us a fair chance to live."

Jones started laughing, and the two crewmembers joined in, too. Michelle watched on in shock, wondering what had gotten into Will--did he really mean to--?

"I hardly think you're in a position to bargain with me--" Jones began between chuckles.

"I know where the heart is," Will interrupted, and Michelle felt like a a linebacker had just slammed into her. "If you do as I wish, I'll tell you where it is."

Jones was silent for a moment, and Michelle wished she could see his face so she could figure out what he was thinking--but she didn't have to wonder for long.

"You _lied_ to me, you filthy little--!" he roared, throwing himself at the bars of Will's cell. Michelle gasped as he slammed his giant claw into the iron over and over.

Finally, he appeared to compose himself, releasing the bars of the cell and taking a shaky step back. Drawing himself back up to his full height, he said in a low voice, "Very well."

He turned around to face Michelle in her cell, and she swallowed hard, trying to stay calm in light of what had just happened.

"Maybe _this_ will help you to remember your place," Jones hissed, unlocking and throwing open the door of Michelle's cell, seizing the front of her burnt orange University of Texas shirt, and dragging her out of the cell.

Through her fear, Michelle heard Will's voice. "She doesn't know where it is! There's no point--"

"She may not know where it is, but you will surely tell me to save her some pain!" Jones yelled, smacking Michelle's face with his claw. As she let out a cry of pain, she felt a little blood run down her cheek.

She wasn't sure if this strengthened her or just made her more reckless. Bracing her bare feet against the wooden floor, she glared up into Jones's face.

"Are you so eager to find that heart because you're afraid for your life, or because it reminds you of _her_?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrowing.

Jones's expression changed from fury to shock in a matter of seconds. Staring off into space, he released Michelle's shirt, dropping her heavily onto the ground, where she painfully propped herself onto her elbows.

Jones walked over her to the doorway, where he paused for a moment as he listened to his two crewmembers scramble to lock Michelle back into the cell. As the two of them joined him, he turned to Will and said in a hollow voice, "I'll have your ship by sunrise."

Alison was busy cleaning James's gunshot wound on his bed in his room. Nothing dirty there, folks...well, not yet, anyway. :D

"Sit still!" she ordered him, rolling his sleeve up a bit more so she could wipe the blood away from his arm.

James sighed exasperatedly and stopped squirming. As soon as Alison had sat him down to fix him up, he had started acting like a little boy.

"But it hurts," he whined, pouting pathetically at her.

"As cute as it is when you act like that, you need to shut up," Alison said gruffly, although she couldn't help smiling a bit. "Now..."

Biting her lower lip in concentration, she gently dabbed the wound with a rum-soaked cloth.

"Ow!" James said loudly, jumping enormously.

"What the--!" Alison threw the cloth on the floor in anger. "You idiot! What were you--"

"Relax, relax, I was kidding," James said, laughing. Alison looked up at his smiling face and smacked his arm.

"I was _trying_ to help," she said angrily. "What, you want me to stop? 'Cause I will--"

"You're so cute when you're angry," James said, his eyes shining.

"It's probably that I'm angry when I'm cute," Alison muttered, but she couldn't stay mad at James. Well, not too mad, anyway. "Now keep your mouth shut and _stay still_ when I'm trying to heal you."

"Oh, but how can I, when I have such a beautiful young woman to heal me?" James said mischeivously.

Alison shook her head in defeat. "Smoothie," she murmured, trying once again to clean the wound.

Just as she was about to touch his skin, the door slammed open.

"What the--?!" Alison yelled, ready to start a full-blown rant, but Norrington, who was facing the door (Alison had her back to it), looked concerned, so she turned around to see Cotton panting in the doorway, his parrot on his shoulder.

"What--" Alison began, but he motioned toward his parrot, who promptly squawked, "Mother's love!"

"Gibbs?" Alison asked. Cotton nodded, and motioned for them to come with him.

Within minutes, Alison and James were down in the common room of the inn, where Cotton was waiting with his parrot. Moments later, Elizabeth and Weatherby rushed down, looking like they had just woken up.

"Is everything all right?" Elizabeth asked, looking anxious. "Where are Gibbs and Marty?"

"For the love of mother and child!" Cotton's parrot squawked.

From watching _Dead Man's Chest_, Alison was prepared for the worst: the parrot had said, "Don't eat me!", which were very possibly the last screams of some poor pirate being eaten by cannibals. Now, she assumed it meant that Gibbs was in danger somewhere.

"Do you know where he is?" Alison asked Cotton, who shook his head but motioned toward the parrot again. Alison took this to mean that the parrot knew where Gibbs was.

"Let's go," James said, and the group headed out the door.

As soon as the door of the inn shut behind them, Cotton's parrot took off into the night, disappearing at times in the dark only to resurface again under some streetlight just ahead of them.

The group followed the bird in a jog, and Elizabeth commented that it seemed like it was heading toward the docks.

As they arrived, Alison drew her pistols, ready for a fight. She had been through a lot tonight, but she wasn't about to let Gibbs get hurt.

Suddenly, she heard voices. Instead of waiting any longer, she took off down the dock, twirling her pistols in her hands as she ran.

Skidding to a halt, she saw Gibbs--talking animatedly with Jack Sparrow.

Staring at the pair incredulously with her mouth slightly open, she barley noticed as James caught up to her, saying, "Alison! What were you--oh, great."

This sour addition apparently caught the attention of Jack, who turned toward them, frowning in confusion. When he finally registered that it was James Norrington who had made the comment, Alison distinctly heard him mutter, "Well, this just keeps getting better and better, now doesn't it?"

She then noticed two figures climbing down a rope ladder hanging on the ship behind Jack and Gibbs. When they reached the dock, they approached Jack and Alison was able to recognize them in the light of a nearby lantern: Pintel and Ragetti!

At that moment, Elizabeth, Weatherby, and Cotton had joined her and James. Cotton's parrot flew from its perch on a nearby crate back onto Cotton's shoulder.

"Is that...?" Weatherby began.

"Yes," Elizabeth said hoarsely.

Jack looked up at that moment and spotted Elizabeth. He froze for a moment, catching her gaze, but then when back to talking with Gibbs.

Elizabeth dropped her gaze to the ground, and then lifted her eyes up again, and Alison assumed that she was following Jack's lead and pretending nothing had happened--for now, at least.

But where was Barbossa--and her sister? She had expected her to be with Jack, as much as she appeared to love him, but she was nowhere to be seen.

She was soon relieved to see another figure climbing down the rope ladder, and she recognized it immediately as Monica's. On impulse, which was usual for her, she ran forward, intending to seize Monica in a huge bear hug.

Monica reached Jack before Alison could reach her, however. Alison watched curiously as Monica said to Jack, "Uh, we got a little problem here..."

She proceeded to whisper something into Jack's ear. Alison saw his eyes widen and knew something bad was up.

"WHAT?!" he yelled furiously at Monica, whirling around to face her.

"Don't get mad at _me_!" Monica said defensively. "I don't know how he got out!"

"What?!" Pintel and Ragetti yelped in unison, joining Jack to make a circle around Monica.

"Don't shoot the friggin' messenger!" Monica said, raising her hands in defense. "Can we please just find him already before he tries to kill us?"

"Barbossa's trying to kill you?" Alison asked incredulously. "You must have had an eventful trip..."

"Who's this?" James asked, having followed Alison again. "Besides the obvious answer of the filthy pirate who ruined my life."

"Dear old Norry, we already settled this: it was Turner who ruined your life," Jack said with a manipulative smirk.

"Play nice, boys," Alison said distractedly. "James, this is my sister Monica...oh, and this is Pintel, and Ragetti," she said, indicating each of them in turn.

"Uh, guys, this isn't a great time for pleasantries!" Monica said.

"Nice to meet you, too," James muttered.

"I don't think you get it--this guy is crazy!" Monica said anxiously, gesturing back up to the ship. "We have to find him and lock him up again!"

"Calm down, already! He can't have gone too far. There's no way he got off the ship without us noticing--either he would have attacked us by now, or we would have heard a splash," Jack said.

At that moment, there was a splash from the other side of the ship.

"I guess we found him," Monica said, looking surprised that he had actually jumped. Jack, however, looked skeptical.

"Go check if you see him," he said, nodding to Pintel and Ragetti, who hurried to do their latest captain's bidding.

"How could it _not_ be him?" Monica asked, confused.

Before Jack could answer, Pintel and Ragetti came sprinting back, looking terrified.

"It was just a barrel!" Pintel squeaked.

Jack's hand immediately flew to his pistol, but a voice from the shadows made him stop.

"You didn't really think I'd take the coward's way out, did you?"

Alison drew, twirled, cocked, and raised her pistols to the direction Barbossa's voice was coming from in one fluid movement. James drew his pistol quickly, too, not to be outdone. Gibbs was unarmed and backed away slightly. Monica drew her sword, somehow managing not to fall over. Pintel and Ragetti drew their swords at the same time. Elizabeth froze at the voice--she and Weatherby had been walking towards the rest of the group.

Jack hadn't raised his pistol, but he spoke to Barbossa. "You're outnumbered. You can't win," he said, but Alison could tell that he wasn't to sure about that.

Barbossa emerged from the shadows, looking quite menacing. He already had his pistol raised, and it was pointed straight at Jack's chest.

"How did you escape?" Monica asked breathlessly, looking quite pale.

"Jack stole the keys," Barbossa said calmly, barely glancing at her. "After that, it was just a matter of waiting until you were all busy making ready to leave the ship...fortunately, I didn't have to wait long." At this, he gave an evil smile. "Though the distraction worked quite well--Jack pushed the barrel overboard; I had set it up earlier, before I left the ship.

"I could have just left then, but that, of course, would have meant that I would have to do without the pleasure of killing Jack Sparrow," Barbossa continued, his smile growing at this added statement.

Jack made a noise, and Alison was sure that he had been trying to correct Barbossa with a "Captain", but that fear had limited his ability to speak.

"Drop it," Alison snarled as Barbossa cocked his pistol.

Barbossa's eyes narrowed at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. "I don't believe we've had the pleasure of meeting," he said cordially, as if he hadn't just run through his diabolical plan to kill his enemy.

"I'd hardly call it a pleasure," Alison said steadily. "Now drop your gun...I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."

Barbossa chuckled. "How noble! Not wanting to take the life of another human being?"

"No, I just don't want to waste a bullet on your sorry ass," Alison replied calmly.

Barbossa stared at her for a moment, then apparently decided he had more important things to worry about than rude strangers.

"Nice knowin' ya, Jack," he said. "Well, not really, but..." He shrugged, as if that were an excuse for what he was about to do. He aimed...

BANG!

Well, that's the second time that's happened to Barbossa. Just as he was about to shoot someone, he got shot himself.

And this time, it was by Elizabeth.

She had raised her pistol silently, not drawing attention to herself. She then had shot Barbossa in the forearm, making him drop his gun and cry out in pain.

She had saved Jack's life. Talk about redemption, eh?

As soon this surprising event had taken place, James had tackled Barbossa, knocking him to the ground. Jack had felt himself all over, looking for a wound, then pretended that he hadn't been frightened at all, saying, "Nice shot, Lizzie."

Elizabeth said nothing, but holstered her pistol. Alison thought she saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

Early the next morning, the heroes of Port Royal (minus Weatherby--Elizabeth had insisted that he stay behind; they had met people in the inn that were still loyal to him) had loaded onto the Jolly Roger, locking the wounded Barbossa in the brig, and were in the middle of the ocean, following the lead of Jack's compass. Yes, Jack had decided to try to trust it again--and if that didn't work, they always had Barbossa.

Monica and Alison had spent much of the previous night talking of their respective adventures, swapping stories and concerns about Michelle and Will. Monica was impressed to hear about Alison and James's defeat of Beckett--well, she was impressed about Alison and James in general! She hadn't seen that one coming.

Alison was amazed to hear that Monica had brought Pintel and Ragetti to the "good" side after hearing how Barbossa had turned on her. She was also interested in her relationship with Jack...she hadn't realized how much Monica enjoyed being with him.

Alison had tried talking to Elizabeth more now that she didn't have Weatherby to spend time with, but Elizabeth frequently gave the excuse that she simply wanted to be left alone. Although she felt bad for her friend, Alison decided that Elizabeth needed to sort her feelings out on her own...but not before letting Elizabeth know that she would always be there for her if she needed it.

Alison and James were happy together, also...but thinking about this only left a sick feeling of dread in her stomach, because she knew she couldn't stay with him. But she mostly tried to push those thoughts of her mind.

Anyway, that morning, Monica was creeping around the deck of the ship. She hadn't been able to sleep; there was a sense of uneasiness within her that she hadn't been able to shake. She knew something big was about to happen--she just wished she knew if it was something good or bad.

So she came above deck, trying to stay quiet and let the others get their sleep. The sun was just rising, and she took a deep breath of the cool, salty air as she watched the bright colors of the sun slowly spread against the inky sky.

Her eyes scanned the horizon, picking up the changing colors of day. Pink, yellow, tan, black, orange--

_Wait a minute,_ she thought. _Tan and black?_

She squinted against the bright colors, and, sure enough, there were two shapes: one tan, one black. She couldn't really make them out; they were pretty far away, and it hurt her eyes to look in the direction of the rising sun.

_I must not have gotten enough sleep last night,_ Monica thought, sighing. Laying her forearms flat on the railing of the ship and resting her head sideways on her arms, she took another deep sigh as she watched the water beneath her.

When she looked up again, the shapes were even nearer--Jack had taken his place at the helm and was taking advantage of the morning winds. Frowning, she went up to Jack, glancing over her shoulder to make sure the shapes were still there.

As she approached him, he let out a huge yawn, gripping the wheel with one hand to steady himself and making a halfhearted attempt to cover his wide-open mouth with the other.

"Hey, Jack," Monica said distractedly, peering out at the horizon.

"Hey, what?" Jack replied, smacking his mouth to try to relieve it of dryness. "I need some bloody rum..."

"Is your compass by any chance leading us in a general _that way_ direction?" Monica asked pointing. "Well, besides from the fact that it could be pointing at me," she teased.

"Very funny," Jack muttered. He flipped the compass open, squinted in the direction Monica was pointing, and said, "Yep. Why?"

"I think we've found the Dutchman," Monica said, adrenaline rising in her. "But that other ship looks like--"

"The Pearl," Jack breathed, staring off at it, wide eyed.


	15. Chapter 15

Michelle woke up with the now familiar feeling of barnacles cutting into her skin from the floor of the brig of the Flying Dutchman. As she cracked her eyes open, she remembered the deal Davy Jones had made with Will--that he would allow them to take the Black Pearl if Will revealed the location of his heart.

Michelle was just worried that they couldn't fit Bootstrap into the plan.

As she sat up painfully, she saw that Will was already awake in his cell, sitting with his back against the wall and staring--rather stoically, Michelle thought--into space. When she sat fully upright, though, he turned his gaze toward her.

"I'm sorry you had to go through this," he said hoarsely, his throat sounding tight.

Before Michelle had a chance to reply, Jones and two of his cronies entered the brig.

"It's time," Jones said.

The two crewmembers unlocked Michelle and Will's cells and let them out. Michelle and Will then followed Jones out onto the deck with the two barnacle boys behind them.

As the group stepped onto the deck, which didn't look any more inviting when covered in the bright, colorful lights of sunrise, Will gently took Michelle's hand and gave her a small smile. Wondering whether to swoon at the smile or cringe at the gash on his face, Michelle gave his hand a gentle squeeze and returned the smile, looking more confident than she felt.

"What do we do?" Monica stammered, staring out at the faint figure of the Pearl. "What the frick do we do?!"

"I don't know!" Jack said, making Monica shut up. "I need some time to think about this."

Monica felt compelled to inform him that they didn't have that much time to come up with a plan, but she wisely decided to stay silent so Jack might have some chance of figuring out what to do.

By this time, Pintel and Ragetti were up, ready to help crew the ship. Noting the anxiety on Monica's face, Ragetti asked in a horrified voice, "Oh, no, he hasn't escaped again??"

"No--it's the Pearl," Monica said, pointing to the horizon where the small black figure sat in front of the colors of the rising sun.

"Now how did that happen?" Pintel asked, squinting incredulously at the shape of the ship.

"Beats me," Monica shrugged. "But does it really matter?"

"What's with him?" Ragetti asked, nodding his head toward Jack.

"I'm trying to think of a plan, but three idiots won't leave me alone," Jack said conversationally.

Ragetti nodded sympathetically, then realized that he was one of the idiots and stalked off with a muttering Pintel. Monica, however, stayed hesitantly behind.

"Jack?" she asked tentatively, trying to work up the nerve to say what she felt. When he turned toward her, looking miffed, she closed her eyes nervously and said in a rush, "I just wanted you to know that whatever you decide to do, you've got my back, and I'll do anything to help."

When done with this shpiel, she cracked an eye open nervously to see his reaction, expecting a berating comment. But instead, she saw that Jack looked mildly surprised...and was that a hint of...affection??

"You have no idea how it feels to have someone actually say that," Jack muttered, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Now, here's the plan..." He bent his head to her ear and began whispering.

Below deck, Alison was just waking up from a dream that involved her, James, a deserted island, and a few bottles of rum...

Sighing lazily, she was just about to roll over and try to fall back asleep when there was a series of loud footsteps outside her door.

She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping for more piece and quiet. She got her wish, but only for about 10 seconds before even more footsteps grated on her sleepy ears.

Sighing as the footsteps didn't cease, Alison halfheartedly raised herself and sat up on her bed, stretching.

THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP.

"That's it," she growled. Grumbling to herself, Alison strode to the door and flung it open.

Not seeing anyone in the hall, she poked her head out and looked right first, then left--and nearly got run over.

"Whoa, look out!" Monica yelled, stumping through the hall with a heavy-looking barrel clutched in her arms. Alison would have been more alarmed if she had been going at breakneck speed, but the barrel was hindering her hurrying. Nice alliteration there.

"What are you doing?" Alison asked curiously, her previous attitude of being pissed gone.

"Uhh..." Monica huffed and set the barrel down in front of her so she could talk. "So, we just came upon the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl..."

Michelle stared at the Pearl as it floated on the gently heaving waves. It was incredible how Jones could bring a ship that had been destroyed by his kraken from the depths of the sea in one piece. But it was missing something.

"Where are the sails?" Will asked steadily, as if about to lose his temper.

Jones was silent, and Michelle knew that he was really regretting letting his prisoners onto the ship. But, she figured, he must be pretty wild about getting his heart back.

Just then, there was a commotion behind them. Michelle had thought that the whole crew was gathered to watch Jones do his magic or whatever it is he did, but she then realized that this had not been true.

"Will!" Bootstrap yelled. Michelle spotted him trying to muscle his way past some barnacle-covered crewmembers that were considerably larger than him.

Before Will could respond to his father's call, Jones was letting his derisive laughter be heard around the ship.

"It seems you've forgotten someone, haven't ya, Turner?" he asked with a sneer. "It's a shame he wasn't part of our deal: now he'll remain here, with only a memory of the son who forgot him!"

"I didn't forget," Will said quietly. With that, he pulled the heart from his shirt with one hand and his father's knife from his belt with the other, leaving the knife poised over the faintly-beating heart.

There was a collective gasp around the ship. Jones was rendered speechless, and Michelle didn't know whether this was from shock or anger--or both.

"Now raise the sails, and Michelle, my father, and I will get on that ship, and _maybe_ I'll think about letting your heart be," Will said fiercely.

Jones looked like he was on the verge of attacking Will himself, but Michelle knew he didn't dare risk any damage to his heart. Finally, he turned back to the Black Pearl, looking defeated, and began to summon the ship's black sails.

Jack and Monica had now told Alison, James, Elizabeth, Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel, and Ragetti about their plan to get the Pearl. It wasn't a very good one, but they had done the best they could in the short amount of time they had before the winds of the Caribbean brought them so close to the two ships that they would lose the element of surprise.

Yeah...and I'm not going to reveal the full plan yet, so there'll be that fun little element again. :D

"Now, we need an initial distraction when we first come sailing up," Jack was saying as the rest of the group of heroes listened intently. "But whoever does this will need to be quick about getting off the ship when the time comes. It can't be you" (he pointed at Alison) "because you have to take the shot. It can't be me because Jones will recognize me, and possibly you, you, you, you, and you." (He pointed at Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel, and Ragetti.) "That leaves you, you, and you." (He pointed at Elizabeth, James, and Monica.)

After an uncomfortable silence, Monica said, "I'll do it."

"What?! You can't, it's suicide!" Alison blurted.

Monica stared at her incredulously. "How hard can it be?" she asked, grinning.

"I don't think--" Alison began hotly, but James interrupted her.

"If she wants to do it, she can do it," he said quickly, looking relieved that he didn't have to do said task. Monica couldn't help but notice that Elizabeth looked a bit happy that she didn't have to do it, too.

"Don't worry, she'll be fine," Jack said soothingly, making Monica beam at him.

"And she better not screw it up, or we'll all be dead meat," Pintel grumbled.

Monica shot him an angry look as Jack continued. "Well then, we'll need someone to shoot--three guesses who," he said, grinning.

"Me," he and Alison said at the same time.

Hey! Another uncomfortable silence!

Monica nervously cleared her throat in hopes of getting Alison and Jack to stop staring incredulously at each other. "Uh, Jack, I actually think she's better than you..." she said tentatively with a little laugh to try to ease the tension.

"Nonsense! She couldn't have made the shot I did to defeat the kraken!" Jack said angrily.

"You told me that was all luck!" Monica said.

"Shh!" Jack said hurriedly.

"Yeah, I'm doing it," Alison said matter-of-factly.

Jack pouted at this statement, then halfheartedly went on with his discussion of the plan. "Fine...well, that pretty much covers it."

"Except for Barbossa," Monica added.

Jack scowled. "Why don't we just leave him down there?"

"What! We can't; that's too cruel," Monica said.

"You do remember that he tried to kill you multiple times?" Jack said dryly.

Monica considered this. "Well..."

"No," Alison said firmly, surprising everyone. "We can't leave anyone to die on this ship, no matter who they are."

"Sure, you say that now...wait till he tries to kill _you_," Pintel said darkly, Pintel nodding earnestly at his side.

"So what will we do with him?" Elizabeth spoke up.

"Good question," Jack said. "Anyone have any ideas?"

"How about...he can walk the plank!" Monica said brightly. "No, listen," she continued when everyone stared dubiously at her. "If we do it right before, it'll give him a chance to get away before we put the plan in action. Then, who knows? Maybe he'll be killed if we have to fight the crew of the Dutchman."

"And if he isn't?" James asked skeptically.

"Uhh...we'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Monica said sheepishly. "Besides, I don't hear any other ideas."

"Shoot him," Jack, Pintel, Ragetti, Gibbs, and Marty said in unison.

"It doesn't look like there's time to argue," Elizabeth said quietly, staring out to sea. "We're getting closer."

As Jones was busy setting up the sails with his magical control of the ocean and anything his kraken dragged down into it, there was a commotion at the side of the ship.

"What the hell--"

"What's that?"

"Who could that be?"

Michelle and Will looked to the side to see a small ship sailing toward the Flying Dutchman and the Black Pearl, but she couldn't make out who was sailing it.

"Shall we fire, captain?" Hammerhead asked Jones, who had barely noticed the hubbub as he was so wrapped up in his magic. Startled, he peered out at the ship, but gave no answer.

The little ship came closer and closer to the Dutchman and the Pearl, but very clumsily, and Michelle could tell that the captain was either extremely unexperienced or drunk.

As the ship pulled up close to the front of the Dutchman, a voice called, "Whoa! What is this, Pimp My Ride?"

Michelle gasped at the sound of Monica's voice coming from the small ship. Luckily, only Will noticed.

"No, seriously. Can I get this thing upgraded? How did you _do_ that??" Monica continued, hoping her voice was carrying over to the Dutchman.

"Who _are_ you?" Jones called back incredulously.

Monica shrugged. "Does it matter?" She left the helm and went to the side of the ship to communicate better. "What's goin' on here, a party?...Why wasn't I invited?"

"What are you doing?" Michelle muttered under her breath. Will was fortunately the only one who noticed again.

"Is that...your sister?" he whispered.

"Yeah," Michelle squeaked.

"...What is she _doing_?"

"I have no idea," Michelle said, mortified.

"What are you doing here?" Jones called to Monica, moving to the front of the ship so he could see her better.

"Asking you to work on my ship, what does it look like?" Monica scoffed, moving back to the helm. Here, I'll get on the other side of you...you look like you're almost done with that one, so you can do mine next."

Monica began maneuvering the Jolly Roger around to the side of the Flying Dutchman that was furthest from the Pearl, so that the three ships were all lined up in a row. As she was doing this, Jones was yelling at her, following her trip to the other side of the Dutchman, along with the rest of the crew, who were just as curious as he was.

"What do you think you're doing?!" he shouted, clearly pissed that the girl wasn't afraid of him.

"Dude, chill," Monica said. "I'm not doing anything wrong, am I? And if I am, what're you gonna do, shoot at a 15-year-old girl in a tiny, unarmed ship?"

"I may, if only for the sake of getting rid of you," Jones growled.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Monica called, cupping a hand behind her ear. "Here, I'll get closer..."

"What--no!" Jones yelled. When Monica just kept moving the Jolly Roger closer to the Dutchman, he roared in frustration. "All hands, prepare to fire!"

"Oh, snap," Monica said quietly. She hoped the others had gotten to the Pearl in time--and that Alison had gotten onto the Dutchman...although they might not need her there anymore...

The Dutchman's side cannons were now pointed at her ship.

"Wait wait wait! Lemme just say something--" Monica said, running up to the side of the ship and pulling herself up to stand on the side, one hand in the rigging to steady herself.

"FIRE!" Jones roared.

"Bugger," Monica said.

Michelle saw her take a death-defying leap off the side of the ship before the cannons were fired--and the little ship blew up with tremendous force, sending debris flying everywhere, including onto the Dutchman.

Michelle gasped and backed up, much like the rest of the people on the ship, who hadn't been expecting such an explosion. Well, they hadn't been expecting an explosion at all, actually. Anyway, the important thing is that the Jolly Roger was so close to the Flying Dutchman when it exploded that it took out part of the side of the ship--and nearly killed Jones in the process, which pissed him off pretty badly.

"WHO THE HELL WAS THAT AND WHY WAS SHE ABLE TO GET SO CLOSE TO MY SHIP WITHOUT ANYONE NOTICING?!" Jones screamed ferociously, looking ready to pop a blood vessel. I mean, ink vessel.

There was utter silence as every person on the ship stared at him. His back was still turned to them, as everyone was staring at where the remains of the Jolly Roger were smoldering on the water.

Michelle heard something rolling next to her foot. She glanced down to see a small, wooden-looking sphere on the deck. Bending down to pick it up, she recognized it right away--Ragetti's false eyeball.

Still staring at the eye in her hand, she stood up, a smile slowly spreading across her face. Will saw the eye, too. They glanced wonderingly at each other, then up at Jones, who had turned around.

He sure didn't have the look of someone whose ship had just been partially blown up--in fact, the look on his face could say only one thing: that the ship he had been working on completing from its rise from the ocean suddenly had people on it. Funny look, really.

Anyway, yes, the Pearl was now inhabited by Jack, Gibbs, Cotton, Marty, Pintel, Ragetti, Elizabeth, and James. What? No Alison _or_ Monica? Indeed!

Everyone on the Flying Dutchman was now staring at the Pearl, its captain who was seemingly back from the dead, and its small crew.

"Jones," Jack said cordially from the helm, lifting his hat off his head and sweeping it in a grand bow.

"Sparrow," Jones growled, looking more furious by the moment.

"Will!" Elizabeth said breathlessly.

"Elizabeth," Will said softly.

"Alison?" Michelle asked in a low voice, wondering where she was. Then, holding the eye high above her head, "Ragetti?"

"Jack," he said, shrugging.

"What?" Jack asked, looking confused.

"Will you fire already?!" Jones yelled.

There was a rush on the Dutchman to get to the cannons that faced the Pearl. Meanwhile, the cannons were being manned on the Pearl.

"Whoa, what'd I miss?" Monica asked as she hopped up onto the deck of the Dutchman, soaking wet and wide-eyed.

"As long as it doesn't get in the way of my business with Jack, I don't care," Barbossa said gruffly as he pulled himself up over the side of the Dutchman and stood next to Monica, his pistol pointing at her.

"Wonderful," James said from the Pearl. "I knew we should have let him die."

Barbossa narrowed his eyes at him. "I don't know who you are, but you're next."

Just then, a bullet whizzed past Barbossa's head, making everyone on the Dutchman jump at the thought of an unknown assassin.

"_I_ could've made that shot," Jack said loudly.

"Oh, shut up," Alison said angrily, popping out from behind the helm where no one had seen her for the past few minutes.

"_You_ shut up!" Jack retorted.

"This is getting ridiculous," Michelle muttered to Will, who nodded in agreement.

"FIRE!" Jones yelled again, who had clearly lost his patience just as Michelle and Will had begun to.

Everyone who wasn't at a cannon ducked as the cannonballs flew from ship to ship, causing damage in the hulls and sides of the ships. Alison began firing like crazy at any bad guy who happened to attack her. Barbossa began firing, too, but at Monica, who had managed to get away in the commotion. Michelle and Will had no means of defending themselves besides Will's knife, so they just tried to avoid getting shot. And everyone on the Pearl pretty much just fired the bejeezus out of their cannons to try to defeat the Dutchman, even though five good guys were still on it--Monica, Michelle, Alison, Will, and Bootstrap.

That was BEFORE the kraken was summoned.

Yep, while all that crap was going on, Jones was able to get some of his crewmembers to turn that wheel thingy that got the kraken to him lickedy-split. Now ain't that convenient?

It bumped the Dutchman first as it tried to get to the Pearl. Monica was busy running for her life from Barbossa when she felt it. Luckily, the bump tripped Barbossa up and allowed her to run below deck without him seeing.

The bump also messed Alison's shooting up. 

"Dammit," she said under her breath as her bullet pierced a hole in Davy Jones's hat--she had been aiming for his head.

The bump was lucky for Michelle and Will--as crewmembers stumbled around them, they were each able to get a sword, and were therefore able to defend themselves.

Then, the kraken began attacking the Pearl.

Michelle watched in horror as its tentacles wormed their way up the sides of the black ship, looking for prey.

"We have to get off this ship!" Will yelled through the noise of battle, keeping a tight grip on Michelle's arm so they didn't lose each other.

"Where, to the ship being attacked by the kraken?!" Michelle yelled, knocking a bad guy over the head with the hilt of her sword.

Will's eyes widened as he saw the monster trying to get a hold on the Pearl as its crew valiantly tried to blow its arms off.

"Didn't see that," Will said, looking surprised. "I have to stab the heart to get rid of it--so we need to get off the ship!"

"Gotcha," Michelle said. "But don't do anything until Monica and Alison are off, too."

Will nodded, and they continued fighting.

Meanwhile, below deck...

"Oh, Monica...where aaarre you?" Barbossa called.

Trembling nearly uncontrollably, Monica made her way through the unfamiliar halls of the Flying Dutchman, seriously regretting her decision to go down there. It hadn't taken Barbossa long to realize that she was no longer on deck, and now he was about to have her cornered.

As he began another mocking call, Monica ran silently into the next room, a hand clamped over her mouth to keep herself from breathing too loudly. But when she saw where she was, she gasped anyway.

She was in Davy Jones's quarters, complete with the huge-ass organ.

As she heard Barbossa's footsteps growing nearer, she dove behind the huge instrument and tried to steady her breathing. Sure enough, as she peeked around the side of the organ, she saw Barbossa creep into the room, pistol drawn.

"I know you're in here, Monica," he said in a soft voice, and Monica nearly screamed from the creepiness of it all. His voice carried all throughout the room, perhaps a feature Jones had liked to have his music amplified. If Monica hadn't been staring right at him, she would have had no idea where Barbossa's voice was coming from.

"You can come out--I won't hurt you," he said, then paused. "Actually, I probably will, because you've been _incredibly_ annoying."

"Will it help if I say I'm sorry?" Monica blurted, staying hidden behind the organ, hoping he didn't know where she was.

He didn't--he whirled around, looking everywhere, but he never spotted her. When he couldn't find her, he laughed.

"That would depend on the manner of the apology," he said, sounding amused.

"Okay, how about...'I'm really really sorry that I was annoying, will you pretty please not blow my brains out?'" Monica asked, stealing her way through the shadows cast by the organ to try to get to the door.

"I was thinking more along the lines of you on your knees before me, begging for forgiveness...and then helping me retake the Pearl," Barbossa said.

Monica stopped in her creeping. "What, and betray Jack? You must think I'm stupider than I am...wait, that came out wrong," she added quickly.

"What do you think Jack will do for you?" Barbossa asked. "Once he's done using you for his little plan to get the Pearl, he'll get rid of you...he won't need you anymore."

"You're wrong," Monica said confidently. "Jeez, just because you've never _had_ a friendship doesn't mean you have to go bringing other ones down--"

Barbossa fired his pistol alarmingly close to Monica's location. She took off for the door, slamming into Barbossa's shoulder and catching him off guard as he re-cocked his pistol.

Sprinting up the stairs, Monica was almost relieved to see the chaos on deck--hey, at least it was in bright sunlight.

As she stepped on deck, she raised her fists in an attempt to look like she could defend herself. Suddenly, someone bumped into her side. She was about to take a swing at them when she realized that it was Michelle, wielding two swords like a pro.

Then someone bumped into her other side, but it was only Alison, brandishing her two pistols with flair.

"What the--when did this become Charlie's Angels?" Monica asked exasperatedly.

Just then, a cannonball came speeding toward our three heroines from the future, and they scattered.

Alison rolled out of the way and smacked a bad guy out of her path with her pistol. Then, she began picking off the baddies who were firing cannons at the Pearl.

From there, she decided to move on to her next target--the kraken.

She knew her puny bullets wouldn't do much damage in comparison to the huge kraken, but she had to do anything she could to help.

So she opened fire on the tentacle that was closest to her.

The tentacle reacted to the bullets, but it continued tearing at the Pearl, peeling wood from its side and trying to tear down the masts.

Groaning in anger, Alison took out her frustration on a nearby crewmember by punching him in the face. This only made her more mad because the barnacles on his mug had cut up her hand.

Sticking her stinging knuckles into her mouth, she decided to _kick_ the next bad guy who got in her way.

While Alison was trying to figure out how to defeat the kraken, Michelle was busy wondering how to get herself and the rest of the good guys off the Dutchman so that Will could stab the heart and get rid of the kraken. Plus, she was doing all this while fighting off a frillion bad guys and dodging cannonballs that were being fired from a ship that was being attacked by a kraken. So, yeah, I can feel her pain on this one.

She hacked and sliced her way toward Monica, leaving a trail of slimy fish guts behind her. Monica was busy trying to grab a sword from someone, but wasn't having much luck.

"Take one of mine!" Michelle yelled, thrusting a sword to her younger sister, who shook her head.

"It'll do more good with you than with me," she said, grinning sheepishly.

Michelle smiled and sliced an arm off of some guy. "Listen, you have to get off the ship as soon as possible--it might get destroyed when we stab the heart."

Monica nodded, but looked apprehensive. "You mean--go to the ship that the kraken's currently having for breakfast?"

Michelle nodded. "You'll be alright...anyway, the faster you get off of this, the faster the kraken will high-tail it out of here."

"Dude, I'm outta here!" Monica said, jumping out of the way of a barnacle guy and making her way to the side of the Dutchman to get to the Pearl.

_Now to find Alison,_ Michelle thought. _I just hope Will got the message to Bootstrap..._

Michelle finally found Alison with her fist in her mouth.

"You have to get to the Pearl," Michelle said breathlessly, exhausted from fighting her way across the ship.

"I'm not going without you," Alison said immediately. "Let's go. Where's Monica?"

"She already left...she should be there by now...I think," Michelle said nervously. "But I have to find Will and his father first."

"I'll come with you," Alison said, but Michelle shook her head.

"Just go, and maybe look for Monica on the way." Alison nodded and left.

Michelle had regained her strength a bit, and now scanned the area for Will and/or Bootstrap. She spotted Will easily enough, the only head of hair among so many crusty heads.

Making her way towards him, she realized that he was with his father. Relieved, she called out, "Will!"

He turned and fought his way to her, Bootstrap following in his wake. When they met, they grabbed each other's arms in a kind of half-hug, each of them happy to see the other.

"Is this Elizabeth?" Bootstrap asked.

Michelle felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. Glancing abashedly at Will, she let go of him, forcing herself to remember his fiancée.

Will looked somewhat guilty, too. "No, this is Michelle..." he trailed off, clearly not knowing what to say. Surely Bootstrap had noticed her odd clothing by now.

"We have to go," Michelle said to Will. "Alison and Monica have already gone."

"Then it's nearly time," Will said grimly. "Let's go."

The three of them made their way to the side of the ship, only fighting a little, since Michelle and Alison had already killed or injured many of the crewmembers.

When they got to their destination, they each found a rope that had been ripped from the Pearl by the kraken. Luckily, the three ropes were still attached, and they were able to swing onto the Pearl from a spot that wasn't blocked by the kraken's tentacles.

Once on board the Pearl, Will took the heart and the knife, glanced up at Michelle, and plunged the knife into the heart.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

The horrible yell was heard by all, and everyone turned to see Jones fall to his knees on his ship, which was suddenly heaving much too strongly for a relatively calm day.

"Look!" Monica said, hanging over the side of the ship and pointing at the water beneath them.

A huge whirlpool was forming under the Flying Dutchman, which was beginning to spin--but so was the Pearl.

"Get us out of here!" James screamed at Jack, who hurried to turn the wheel in an attempt to steer them away from the churning water.

The kraken's tentacles were waving and trying to clutch at the Pearl for support, but it too was being sucked into the whirlpool. It finally was torn from the Pearl, and it began swirling down in the water.

Everyone on the Dutchman, Jones included, was screaming in horror as they saw what fate awaited them. Several crewmembers tried to jump off the ship to safety, but they were just sucked into the whirlpool.

The Pearl was being sucked down, too.

Our heroes all struggled to stay steady on the dangerously tilting ship, running to the side that wasn't being pulled down. The Pearl was still close to the Dutchman, though...

Monica spotted a figure that didn't look barnacle-covered on the Dutchman, and realized that Barbossa had never gotten off.

As the Dutchman began spiraling downwards, he grabbed a rope from the Pearl and leapt from the side, about to swing to the Pearl...

...but the rope snapped.

Barbossa fell into the giant whirlpool that was meant for Davy Jones, his ship, and his crew.

Finally, Jack managed to get the Pearl out of the bowl of the whirlpool, and they just managed to get away before the Dutchman was pulled under.

When it was over, the silence was almost deafening after the roaring water and the screams of the doomed ones.

Alison had had her head buried into James's chest, but now she looked up to see someone she had never seen before on the deck.

"Who--" she began. Then, "Bootstrap!"

He was cured of his barnacle-ness. Standing there was a normal man, Will Turner's father, Bootstrap Bill Turner.

He stared wonderingly at his hands, then gingerly felt his face. His eyes met Will's, and the look of happiness was enough to fill Michelle's eyes with tears.

He seized Will in a tight bear hug, whispering, "I'm free...thank you, my son...I'm free at last..."

Michelle backed up slowly as Elizabeth ran up to Will, waiting for a hug of her own. When Bootstrap finally released him, he hugged Elizabeth tightly, but looked at Michelle over her shoulder.

Michelle smiled at him. She didn't feel much like smiling as she watched him hug his fiancée, but she forced it.

His smile to her seemed a little forced, too, like he would be a lot more happy if she were in his arms.

James had taken Alison in a deep kiss, as if to show his affection after that drama.

"You're my hero," he said softly into her ear, actually making her blush.

Jack stood next to Monica, who was watching all this romanticism wistfully.

"Good work," he said awkwardly, clamping a hand on her shoulder. She grinned up at him and grabbed him in a hug, saying, "I was just glad to help."

She felt him stiffen, then relax and place his hands around her, too.

"Look!" It was Gibbs who made the observation this time. Looking upward, he pointed to the damaged masts of the ship--well, they weren't damaged anymore.

"The damage of Jones's kraken was reversed when his heart was destroyed," Bootstrap said wonderingly. "The Black Pearl...I never thought I would see it restored to its former glory..."

"Let's see if she still sails the same way," Gibbs said, grinning at Jack.

Jack slowly took the helm, sighing and running his hands along the wheel. Then he grinned and said, "Let's see if she's stocked the same."

Yeah...she was. They found a bunch of rum, so all the pirates were happy.

A few days later, the Black Pearl and its crew were in Port Royal, enjoying the feeling of not having worries hanging over their heads. The rum was gone pretty quickly, though.

Elizabeth was reunited with her father, who was relieved to see her--and Will--in one piece.

Michelle watched this meeting from afar, feeling an emptiness inside her that she had hoped would go away--one that she knew that would never be filled.

As she stood watching this from a secluded place on the docks, Jack sauntered up, taking a swig of rum.

"'Ello, love," he slurred, leaning too close to Michelle for comfort.

"How drunk are you?" Michelle asked incredulously, staring at the nearly-empty bottle.

"Not very," he said defensively. "Not that I'd need any more to make you look any better..."

Michelle cocked her head. "Do you even know my name?" she asked curiously.

"Sure!" Jack said. "You're Shamell--I mean, Michelle--"

Michelle rolled her eyes. "Why don't you go hit on someone else; I'm really not in the mood for it right now," she muttered.

"I already did, but dear old Norrington got awfully angry," Jack said, swaying slightly.

Michelle chuckled a bit and smoothed her hair. "Of course he did..."

She hadn't wanted to admit it, but she was intensely jealous that Alison was able to be with the man she loved. But one thing she wasn't jealous of was the fact that they had to return to their own world in a few days.

Monica had come to terms with this fact, too, and had become determined to make the most of her short time left with Jack. Alison wanted as much time with James as possible, too, so they had decided that they would go their separate ways and simply meet up again in their laundry room. So I'll be describing how they left the Pirates world in different parts, just so you don't get confused, 'cause, like, they all get back at the same time, but I have to write it in different parts...

...yeah. On with the story. :o)

As much as Michelle wanted to be with Will, she didn't think she could--and she knew she probably shouldn't. So when Jack, Monica, Gibbs, Cotton, and Marty left to raise hell in Tortuga and James took Alison on a tour of Port Royal, she was left with Will, Elizabeth, Bootstrap, and Weatherby.

She felt horrible when she saw Will and Elizabeth together. As much as she had told herself that she wouldn't do it, she knew that she had fallen in love with Will.

_It's funny,_ she found herself thinking as she wandered the grounds of the Swanns' mansion, _I went through all that trouble with Davy Jones, who became what he is because of love, and now _I've_ become something else because of love..._

It was true. She couldn't sleep, she could barely eat...she had become miserable at the very thought of Will and Elizabeth together.

She knew this wasn't right. She did want Will to be happy, but sometimes she wondered...why wasn't he happy with her?

_This is awful,_ she thought one day as she lay on the bed the Swanns were providing her. _This man has changed me into something bitter...just like what happened with Davy Jones._

Then it clicked.

_Tia Dalma!_ she thought, suddenly sitting up. _My lifeline, my destiny..._Will's_ destiny from the movie..._

She needed to take a little trip.

One day Alison and James were walking through the muddy streets of Port Royal, holding hands, just content to be together. They didn't need to say anything; they just walked happily in silence in each other's company.

The meandered their way to the battlements, up to the place where James had first proposed to Elizabeth in _The Curse of the Black Pearl_.

"Is this where you take all your girlfriends?" Alison teased as the two of them looked out to the sea.

"Oh, be quiet," James said, smiling and kissing her. When he broke away, however, she realized that she was about to leave.

"What's wrong?" James asked, noting the shocked look in her eyes.

James looked into her eyes, and Alison was surprised to see the sadness in his face. "You're leaving soon, aren't you?"

Alison broke his gaze and looked away guiltily. "Very soon."

James sighed and took her in his arms, and Alison pressed her head into his chest, fighting back tears.

"I don't want you to leave," James said softly into her hair.

That did it. Tears silently rolled down her face, and she squinched her eyes shut to try to stop more from falling.

"I don't want to leave, either," she sobbed, clutching him as hard as she could.

"Don't cry..." James said soothingly. He gently removed her from his grasp and held her face in his hands. "I love you," he whispered, and kissed her gently.

Alison nearly started sobbing again at his words, but she gave into the kiss, letting the warmth of his lips take her away. It almost felt like she was rising...

...she _was_ rising.

"Goodbye," she whispered before she was thrown into blinding light.

"Let's go, Jack, we've got enough!" Monica yelled over the noise of the pub, holding a sack of money in one hand and her sword in the other.

Jack launched himself over the bar, waving his pistol haphazardly as he jumped. He too was carrying a sack of money.

Yep, he and Monica had just robbed a pub--not that this was a great feat, since no one was really paying attention to them anyway, as there were so many fights going on. But Monica had wanted to do some pirating, and this is what Jack had taken her to do.

"Go!" he yelled, ducking as someone swung a punch at him. Monica didn't need telling twice: she darted out of the pub and took off down the path, hearing Jack's footsteps behind her.

"Whoo-hoo!!" she shouted ecstatically, grinning wildly. "That was AWESOME!"

"Hopefully Gibbs has got the Pearl ready to go," Jack panted. "Whoop!"

Bullets were whizzing by them as someone shot at them from behind. Laughing excitedly, Monica picked up speed as Jack grunted to keep up.

"Time to go!" Jack yelled as they came upon the Pearl at the docks.

"Aye aye, cap'n!" a grinning Gibbs yelled, throwing down two ropes. He had also jumped at the chance to do some "honest piratin'".

Jack and Monica put away their weapons and seized the ropes, still holding on tightly to the sacks. As the ship started moving slowly away from the dock, the ropes were heaved upward, and the pair were lifted up the side of the Pearl.

Jack managed to land on deck gracefully, but Monica, of course, fell. She sat on the deck giggling to herself as Jack took the sacks of money and handed them to Gibbs.

"Keep these in a safe place," he said, winking. Then he turned to Monica and helped her up off the ground.

"That was _so_ badass," she said, employing the use of the word she had taught Jack before.

"Wasn't it?" Jack straightened his hat on his head. "Good work," he said, nodding at her.

"You, too," Monica said, instinctively raising her hand for a high five. Jack looked at it awkwardly, then raised his own, only to have it slapped by Monica.

"What was that for?" he asked, bringing his hand to his chest with a shocked expression on his face.

Monica just laughed, her excitement making her feel giddy.

"Don't worry about it," she panted, grinning and patting Jack on the arm. "Whoo...that was tiring...but totally worth it!"

"I don't know why you're that excited...it was just a bit of stealing," Jack said, looking confused at her jubilance at robbing a barely-secure pub.

"You don't get it...I don't get to do stuff like that all the time," she said, calming down a bit. "I'm not free like you."

"Free?" Jack scoffed. "I'm hardly free when the whole Navy is after me."

"But that's so exciting!" Monica said, her eyes wide with admiration. "On the run from the Royal Guard, outsmarting them, the rush of getting away..." Her eyes glazed over at the thought of these adventures. "You don't realize how lucky you are," she said softly, staring out at the sea.

"Hmm...I guess you're right," Jack said after deliberating this. "It is pretty badass to get to make fools out of the Royal Navy."

Monica laughed and shook her head. "I'm gonna miss you," she said suddenly.

"What?" Jack said, frowning.

"I'm leaving," Monica said, alarmed. "Oh! Don't forget me! Thanks for putting up with me--"

She seized him in a hug and began planting kisses all over his face, making him jerk back in surprise. When she was finally done, he put his arms around her tenderly.

"It hurts like a mother to see you go," he said seriously.

Monica was laughing as she was thrown upward--she had almost forgotten that she had taught him that phrase.

The next day, Michelle told Will and the others that she needed to be alone after all that had happened. A lame excuse, but she had to say something.

She also asked to speak to Will in private, because although she wasn't sure exactly how long she had been there, she knew that her 30 days were almost up, and this was most likely the last time she would see him.

When they were alone together in the entrance hall of the Swanns' mansion, Michelle took a deep breath, struggling to find the words to express what she was feeling. Usually she was good at this, but she had never been in this situation before--you know, the one where you fall in love with a fictional guy from the past and you have to go back to the real future.

"So this is goodbye," she started off lamely. "Umm...Will, what I wanted to say is--"

"I know," he said in a low voice, catching Michelle off guard. "You don't have to say it."

Michelle didn't know whether to feel relieved or mortified. "I'm sorry," she breathed, not knowing what to say.

"Why?" Will asked. "Would you want to take back any of what we went through?"

Michelle smiled wistfully. "Well, dying and getting beat up I could have done without," she joked, earning a small chuckle from Will. That smile...would she ever see that smile in person again?

"Don't regret what we had," Will said softly as a servant walked by. "Not for a second."

After a few seconds of gazing into each other's eyes, they leaned closer to each other...Will's lips brushed Michelle's as he gently took her chin in his hand.

They broke away quickly as the servant walked back the other way, luckily completely oblivious to what had just happened. Michelle didn't want to meet Will's eyes, knowing that his fiancée was waiting for him upstairs.

"Goodbye," she choked, somehow managing not to burst into tears.

"Goodbye," Will said softly, his brown eyes filled with a melancholy look that followed her out the door.

Michelle managed to join a crew of a ship that was docked at Port Royal that was heading in the general direction of Tia Dalma's shack. That night, she stole a lifeboat from the ship to row down the river and to the swamp.

When she finally arrived at the shack, she was exhausted from rowing quickly down the river. She hurriedly got out of the boat and began to tie it up when she heard a voice.

"You won't need ta be doin' dat."

Michelle whirled around to see Tia Dalma standing in the doorway, smiling at her eerily.

"Why?" Michelle asked warily, her heart pounding from exertion, excitement, and being surprised.

"You'll be leavin' before you'll need dat again," Tia Dalma said, gesturing toward the boat, and Michelle knew that she was talking about returning to her own world.

"Come in, come in...I knew you'd be comin', so I made you a drink."

Michelle nervously followed the witch into her shack, and couldn't help but realize that she had never entered it before, only left it. Shaking this thought from her mind, she joined Tia Dalma at the table at her request.

"Thank you," she said softly as she served her a drink.

"You be wantin' some answers?" Tia Dalma asked. "I tot so."

Michelle swallowed hard, then realized how dry her throat was. She took a grateful sip of the drink. She didn't know what it was, but the sweet taste sent a pleasantly warm feeling throughout her body, calming her down.

"Were you the one Davy Jones was in love with?" she asked, feeling relaxed enough to ask this question.

The voodoo woman's smile grew wider. "Yes," she said, as if pleased with this fact.

_I knew it!_ Michelle thought triumphantly.

"He died," Michelle said hesitantly. "And Barbossa..."

Tia Dalma nodded. "I know dis," she stated, as if it needed no explanation.

"Okay...what I want to ask you about next is this," Michelle continued, raising her hand with her palm upward to display her broken lifeline.

Tia Dalma's smile never faded. "I was right, weren't I?" she asked beaming. "You died and came back?"

Michelle nodded, entranced by the woman's knowledge.

"Ahh, I knew you had a touch of destiny about you," she said.

"Yes, that too," Michelle said quickly. "About Will's destiny...was that...about me?"

"Ahh, you've certainly got your wits about ya!" Tia Dalma said, looking more pleased by the second. "Yes, Will Turner's destiny was ta meet you, and ta break your 'eart..."

Michelle looked down at her hands.

"...and your destiny was ta learn about love," she continued.

Michelle looked up, confused. "But...why me? I know about love and getting my heart broken..."

"Michelle Anne Connors, dere is no choice in which destiny goes ta who," Tia Dalma said, smiling kindly at her. "You were simply da one ta be given dis destiny...of gettin' your 'eart broken, of becomin' stronger through it...and to remain in Will Turner's 'eart forever."

"Really?" Michelle asked, smiling ruefully.

Tia Dalma nodded. "Ta 'im, you will always be da one dat got away," she explained. "'E will always have da doubt of what would 'ave 'appened 'ad 'e chosen you instead of Elizabeth Swann."

"I don't want that for him," Michelle said quietly.

"It don't matter what we want," Tia Dalma said quietly. "It only matters what we learn from what 'appens ta us."

Michelle swallowed hard and nodded. Then, she knew that she was about to leave.

"It's time," Tia Dalma said smiling. She clapped her hands twice, and Jack the monkey came running up to her with something in his hand.

"What--how--?" Michelle asked, staring wonderingly at Jack, but Tia Dalma only smiled and rose from the table.

"I want you to 'ave dis," she said as Michelle rose, too. She opened Michelle's hand and placed the locket in it, the one that matched Davy Jones's.

"I can't," Michelle said immediately.

"Yes, you can," Tia Dalma said soothingly.

"No, I can't; we can't take anything back, it'll just stay here. I can't take it," Michelle explained.

"Yes, you can," Tia Dalma repeated, smiling at her.

And then Michelle was rising...she was blind and deaf...and then she was being hurled through a tunnel, and she was thrown into her laundry room, where Monica and Alison where already sitting, looking slightly disheveled.

"Oh, my god!" Alison said after what had happened sank in.

"Shh! Mom's probably still asleep," Monica hissed.

"Oh my god, oh my god..." Alison kept whispering.

"Michelle, what's that?" Monica asked curiously.

Michelle wordlessly opened her palm to reveal the locket, making Monica's jaw drop.

"How did you--?!"

"Tia Dalma," Michelle said, shrugging.

"No freakin' fair!" Monica said. "I would've _loved_ to bring something back..."

Just then, they heard the door to their mother's room open.

As she walked in, they were all standing, trying to look innocent.

"Why are y'all in here?" she asked groggily.

"Just...doin' the laundry," Monica said, smiling.

Their mother looked at them suspiciously, then shuffled to the fridge, leaving the three sisters to grin at each other.

When _At World's End_ finally came out, the Connors sisters were there at the first showing. Monica had made them all make T-shirts that read, "I survived the kraken!" and wear them proudly to the movie. Michelle also wore Tia Dalma's necklace.

When the movie was over, the three of them were stunned.

"That was..." Monica began on the car ride home.

"Amazing," Alison said from the front seat.

"Yes, but..." Michelle continued from the passenger seat.

"That's not what happened...totally," Monica said, staring off into space.

"It was still awesome, though," Alison said reasonably. "Of course, it would have been awesomer if _we_ were in it..."

Michelle snorted. "Could you imagine Monica at the Brethren Court of Pirates?" she laughed.

"Or Alison trying to snog James every chance she could get?" Monica added.

"Or Michelle getting bitch-slapped by a Davy Jones's claw on the big screen?" Alison said.

They all laughed at this. After a silence, Alison asked, "Do you think they remember us?"

Michelle smiled and touched the locket around her neck. "Oh, I don't think they'll be able to forget."


End file.
